


Cruel Summer

by NorthernRose



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, BDSM, Cunnilingus, Dom Jon Snow, Dom/sub, Dorne, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Something, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Not Beta Read, Obsessive Behavior, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Sub Sansa, Summer Romance, consent is sexy chaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-11-08 09:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20832875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernRose/pseuds/NorthernRose
Summary: Gods she wanted him, back in the room, back to her and his ever continuing consummation of her. He owned her she knew, and she wanted that, for how ever long this lasted, because something this good could never last. Jon Snow had made her 'want' from the moment she met him.OrSansa spends a summer in Dorne. It's here she meets Jon Snow. It's here where everything changes. Jon teaches her what is is to 'want'. Is it enough, or will she always 'want' more?Fic and chapter title's from Taylor Swift's 'Cruel Summer'.





	1. What doesn't kill me makes me want you more.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello sweethearts!  
I'm not sure where this filthy little ditty came from.  
This may not be everyone's cup of tea so please heed the tags. 
> 
> Remember kids, consent is sexy. 
> 
> Rose x

If you asked Sansa Stark how she found herself to be in her current predicament she would find it difficult to tell you. Her summer interning in Dorne has been… varied so far. Yes, varied indeed, wild, certainly educational and so utterly left field from her normal life.

Sansa was, how would she put it? She was a good girl. She wouldn’t deny this, hell she has played up to it enough over the course of her 20 year old life. To an outsider she probably did not currently look like a good girl, but that’s neither here nor there. Sansa had felt nothing but good since her arrival in Dorne. She had just completed her second year at University, final projects submitted pre deadline of course. She had secured herself a spot interning at a renowned Dornish Fashion House. She had pictured herself expanding her knowledge by day and walking on the beach by night for a glorious and youthful summer, before returning North to complete the final year of her degree in Fine Arts and Costumery.

She did not however, imagine she would find herself tied by her wrists to a bed, wearing nothing but a thong but alas, here she was.

She could blame it on the weather if she tried, or perhaps the liberal and expressive people, or the Dornish culture. She could try and blame it on all of those things but that would be a lie, and good girls do not lie. As she pulled on her binds to test them once more, she realised it had not been Dorne that had drove her here tonight. It hadn’t been Dorne that made her beg for this, want this, _need_ this. It hadn’t been Dorne that had utterly consumed her in every way, no, it had been Jon Snow.

He had left her in her current position about fifteen minutes ago, something about needing to make an important business call that could not possibly wait. _Liar_. She scoffed to herself. They had played games like this before. He liked to make her wait, to squirm, literally and figuratively, she thought to herself as she arched her back and pressed her thighs together, to relieve some part of the ache between her legs. it would provide little relief she knew, only he could do that.

She knew he was likely just sitting on the chaise just outside the door in his dressing room, tapping out some emails on his phone languidly, as a way to pass the time whilst she lay in a tortured and needy state in the adjacent room. She had a safe word, she knew if she called out he would come in immediately and untie her. She had never had to use it. She scoffed again to herself. Her safe word, that was a laugh. Her father would likely keel over if he knew their families ancesteral House Sigil was the safe world his little darling Sansa, his Winter Rose could use to stop all of this, but Jon had insisted. _Sarcastic bastard_. It was quite funny she hated to admit.

She groaned out loud in frustration and pulled on the binds to rattle the headboard of his bed. She knew he would hear, she wanted him to, it was all part of the game. She looked down and could see her nipples had peaked and she could feel her thong dampening further between her legs, she knew she would never see that again once he was through with her. was a pity she reflected, she was rather fond of it.

Gods she wanted him, back in the room, back to her and his ever continuing consummation and damnation of her. He owned her she knew, and she wanted that, for however long this lasted, because something this good could never last. Jon Snow had made her _want _from the moment she met him. He had made her _need_. She wanted him to leave her here, strung to his bed in anticipation, she had wanted him to take her across his knee last night in his office. She had begged him to pin her down and fuck her the other night in a side room at the opening of the new hospital ward that had been named in his father’s honour, “I’d rather honour your cunt,” he had told her.

She closed her eyes and thrashed her legs a little in frustration and exhaled a loud huff. It was unladylike, her mother would scowled her if she was here. Thank the Old Gods and the New she was not. She opened her eyes and saw that he had returned, _about bloody time_, and she glared at him and she could see his mouth twitch as he glacially leaned against the door frame.

“Is something troubling you Sansa?” he murmured, “you look… frustrated.” _Bastard_, he really was a bastard. She didn’t answer him. Two can play at that game, she knew he wouldn’t like it, especially when she bit her lip to try and hide her smile. She couldn’t hide anything from him though, he saw everything about her. The perpetual good girl, Sansa Stark that just needed more, he had seen right through her.

He raised his eyebrows and she knew Jon was waiting for a response, but she said nothing. _Oh, you are in for it now Sans_ she thought, she would giggle if she wasn’t so turned on.

He had begun removing the cufflinks from his white shirt. They were little Direwolves, he had started wearing them a few weeks ago, “I suddenly have an interest in all things Northern,” he had had smirked at her when she asked about them. He kept his eyes on her all the while, she would not be able to look away if she tried. He started to roll up his sleeves. _Finally Snow_, the forearm foreplay, we are getting somewhere.

“I asked you a question Sansa,” he said softly as he walked slowly to the bed. He sunk down next to her, within an arm’s reach, not close enough she thought. His eyes raked over her before settling on her thighs. You could still see the fingertip shaped bruises he had left there the other night from where he had pinned her down and made her come three times with his mouth despite when she begged him to stop, “you can take it sweet girl,” he had told her, he had been right. No safe word required. She knew he could see the bruises too and that this pleased him.

He wasn’t playing fair, he needed some encouragement,

“I’m sorry… Sir. I was… distracted. I have been waiting a long time,” she said coyly as she raised one of her legs and skimmed her foot up the length of her other.

He grabbed her ankle to halt the movement and she felt the heat of his touch pulse through her. She pressed her head back and arched her back in response, pulling on her binds again, he liked to see her squirm she knew.

“It’s not polite to ignore people Sansa,” he said in that measured tone of him, he never shouted, he never needed to, “I would have thought you knew better, didn’t they teach you about manners at that posh school in the Riverlands your Mother sent you too?”

She knew better than to keep quiet now, the game was well and truly on, “Yes Sir.”

“It seems you have forgotten, I will have to remind you of your lessons. What would your father think of such rudeness?” he smirked at her as he rubbed small circles on her ankle. He really was a bastard, to mention her dear Father while she was utterly soaked between her legs when he had barely touched her. 

“He would be disappointed in me Sir, he would expect better.”

His hand had begun to move up her leg slowly as she spoke. He stopped near the top of her thigh as he mulled over her response. He tapped his fingers on her leg in a rhythm, like one would on a desk.

“Would you like me to teach you some manners Sansa?” _fuck yes_ she thought, _just bloody do something_. She didn’t voice it though, she wouldn’t be able to sit for a week if she spoke to him like that and she was rather fond of sitting.

“Please Sir,” she begged, “teach me.”

“Good girl,” he murmured as he moved his hand to cup the front of her lace covered mound. She whimpered and pressed it against him, causing the ties on her wrist to bite into her skin. He removed it far too quickly and stood. He had begun to remove his shirt, she knew his shoes, socks and suit trousers would follow in a moment.

He was taking his sweet time about it, he was nearly down to his boxers. The ache between her legs was agonising and she was losing patience. She needed to help hurry things along,

“Please Sir,” she bit her lip once she had his attention, “teach me, I deserve to be punished,” she knew all the right things to say. Half of the time she was sure she was saying them for her own benefit and not his. 

He smirked wolfishly at her, he knew exactly what she was doing, she knew. He walked to the end of the bed. He surveyed her for a moment, Gods he made her feel beautiful, before getting onto the bed and spreading her legs slightly. He settled between them on his knees.

He traced the edge of her thong before pulling it down slowly, too slowly. She lifted her hips to help him. He dragged it lazily down her leg all whilst never taking his eyes from the small thatch of copper between her legs, she knew he loved it. He had told her to never get rid of it in the beginning, when this all started. He said it was a command, and she would be punished beyond believe if she disobeyed him. She never would, she was desperate to please him.

He unhooked the thong from her legs one at a time. He raised the final leg to sit on his shoulder. She thought she would burn from the inside out as he brought the thong to his face and inhaled deeply, “such a good girl,” he murmured more to himself than her.

Jon quickly rose from the bed and walked back out to the dressing room. She knew he was depositing her underwear in a drawer with the rest of them. _Fucking pervert_ she smiled to herself. He returned and settled between her legs again and spread them further, opening her up to him. He had a starved expression on his face. She knew he was as desperate for her as she was, but the game wasn’t over yet.

She thought back to her now missing underwear and thought some teasing was in order, “I’m running out Sir,” she pouted. He flicked his eyes back to her with a confused look on his face, so she tipped her head in the direction of the dressing room. She wasn’t of course, she still had plenty of underwear, not much she would want him to see her in though, especially black which she knew he loved. She likes to keep him on his toes though so she’d worn a white set the other night, it was practically bridal, he brought the riding crop out when he’d seen her and told her she was perfect and beautiful when the skin on the back of her legs had tingled and flushed red.

“Hmmm, well we can’t have that can we,” he said as he laid over her and blanketed her with his weight. She arched into him, she loved the feel of him on top of her. “But I’ve thought of that already,” he continued as he nuzzled her neck, his beard tickled her skin as his hands ghosted slowly up to where her wrists were raised above her head, “I had some delivered to your flat this morning, I hope you like them,” he tugged on her tied wrists to test them, he really did know an impressive range of knots. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she muttered shyly, she knew she was blushing. She didn’t want this to be about that; money, gain, things people had tried to use her for in the past. She had read enough romance novels to know it would never work, this was not Pretty Woman, she did not want to feel cheap about what was happening between them, whatever it was.

He held his chin in his hand and pulled her face back to his. His touch was so gentle it made her want to close her eyes to avoid his gaze. It was too different, too much of a contrast to how they usually where together like this, it was too confusing.

“Hey, Sansa look at me, I wanted to. It’s a gift. If you don’t like them you can return them and we will not speak of it again, do you understand?” he murmured softly, his mouth inches from hers.

“Yes Jon,” she whispered.

He smiled softly at her, “good,” before his smile dropped from his face, “now, if you call me Jon again, I won’t let you come, is that clear?”

She inhaled sharply, this was new, “Yes Sir, I’m sorry Sir,”

“Good girl, now where were we,” he muttered before lowering his face and giving her a bruising kiss to her lips, one kiss, two, before pulling away sharply. She tried to chase his mouth and pulled on her binds. She whimpered at the loss of him.

“… ah yes, your manners. You ignored me Sansa, you know this is unacceptable don’t you? That’s why you asked me to punish you isn’t it?” he spoke against her lips.

“Please… please.”

“You know your safe word don’t you sweet girl?” he always asked, she always nodded. She wouldn’t say it though, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She considered joking that it was ‘dragon’ but she was going to be in for enough bother as it was, sometimes her mind ran away with her.

“That’s it,” he said against her lips before kissing her again, softly this time, he nipped at her lip and she moaned into his mouth, he peppered her cheek with small kisses and kept himself propped up with one arm whilst his other hand skirted to her chest where he pinched her nipple sharply between her fingers. She mewled and arched her back, desperately trying to drag him even closer with her legs, “you’re doing so well Sansa,” his hand had now reached her hip and he pushed his arousal into her.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” he whispered in her ear before kissing her neck.

“Please Sir,” she begged, she was certain no one, not even herself had ever made her wetter than she felt at this moment, than he always made her feel.

“It’s ok, good girls will be rewarded,” he smiled at her as his hand reached her thigh and he hauled her leg up and hooked it over his hip, “… but bad girls will not,” he said before raising his hand and bringing it down quickly in a sharp smack on the outside of her thigh.

She bucked into him immediately and pulled on the ties on her wrists. She felt completely open to him. The soft skin of her thigh tingled deliciously, and he rubbed it in small circles with his hand.

She must look a wreck she realised, her face felt red hot, her arms still strung above her, chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. She had barely moved in all this time, but she felt electrified.

Jon however, seemed to disagree with the current state he found her in, “Gods you look so pretty Sansa, my perfect little lady,” he groaned as he bend down to kiss her breasts, each one quickly, “splayed out like this just for me and no one else.”

She sobbed in frustration, it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Shh now. I bet you are wet for me, aren’t you? Shall we see?” he asked, before she could answer he kissed her harshly again as she moaned into his mouth. She nodded quickly when he released her.

_ Smack.  _

She had not even noticed he had raised his hand till it resonated on her thigh once more. He ran his hand from her leg and brought it to her centre, stroking her slowly as she writhed against him.

_ Smack. _

“Oh sweetheart, absolutely perfect, you always are,” he continued to tease her as he took her mouth with his again, coaxing her tongue with his. She rolled her hips against him as he dipped one, then two fingers inside her.

“Is this what you want Sansa?” he asked.

“Yes Sir, please, please.” She couldn’t care less that she was begging, she just needed him, she felt herself building and she wanted to rip the stupid binds from her wrists so she could run her hands over him.

“Hmmm. This feels like more of a reward for you. No. You are not to come Sansa, not yet,” he instructed her. He said it so casually she thought, as if he was telling her the time as he continued to move his fingers in and out of her.

“When?” she whined, she sounded hysterical. It was torture, sweet torture.

“When I say, maybe now, maybe never, I haven’t decided,” she groaned loudly, clenching her teeth and thrashing her arms above her head. She knew it would hurt tomorrow but she didn’t care, “I want you to remember this Sansa next time you want to ignore me.”

“I will Sir, I promise, please,” she whined as he brought him thumb to her nub and pressed down in slow circles. She panted harshly and dug her heels into his calf muscles.

“Good girl, just a little longer, it will be worth it I promise,” he murmured as he lowered his mouth back to her nipple and traced it with his tongue.

She continued to roll her hips with each circle of his thumb, she wouldn’t be able to hold off much longer as she teetered to the edge of her orgasm. He sucked on her nipple harshly and soothed it with a soft kiss.

“Nearly sweet girl, not yet,” he propped himself back on one elbow as his other hand continued its torturous movements, “your cunt feels so tight and wet for me Sansa, you’re doing so well,” he murmured softly.

“Do you promise not to ignore me again?” he continued.

“Yes, Gods yes I promise,” she begged in return.

“Good girl, it’s ok, I’ve got you, I want you to come for me, come for me now,” he demanded as he curled his fingers inside her.

Her body shuddered involuntarily as her peak washed over her. She gripped him tightly with her legs and tipped her head back as she cried softly in her release. She couldn’t open her eyes as she lay there, the last shivers leaving her body.

She was vaguely aware of him blanketing her body again, “your cunt tastes like heaven,” he whispered, he must have taken his fingers in his mouth to taste her. He stroked her face gently and kissed her lazily on the mouth as she gathered her senses. She could feel his cock, straining hard against her but he did not seem bothered by it, he would fuck her in a minute, of that she was sure.

“I’ve got you sweet girl,” he murmured as his hands went to the ties on her wrists as he began to undo them. She felt numb, like her spinal cord had been removed due to the intensity of how he had made her feel. Once she was free, she immediately brought her arms around his neck as she rolled them over and she lay on his chest, “You’ve been so good to me Sansa, such a good, perfect girl.”

She still wasn’t entirely sure what is was she had done which had been _so perfect_, or how she _had been so good to him_. In all honestly, she felt like she took so much from this and he so very little, but he would disagree she was sure.

And she would not dare to argue with him that’s for certain, not Jon Snow. She knew first-hand what kind of trouble she would be in if she did.


	2. He looks so pretty, like the devil.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a flashback to three weeks earlier. 
> 
> A first meeting...

Three weeks earlier…

Sansa had been in Dorne for a little over a week now. She has enjoyed the first week of her internship, she was the only Northerner, her copper tresses had made her somewhat of a novelty. Her colleagues had been kind, the work had been interesting. She had spent her first week in a fairly repetitive cycle; coffee, work, take-out, bed. It was ok, the same didn’t equal bad but she found herself restless. She was in one of the most beautiful parts of the continent, so different from the North and she had little to show for her travels so far. No adventure, no romance certainly. Isn’t this how novels started, heroine takes off on a whirlwind journey of discovery and meets exotic stranger? Not thus far apparently.

Sansa sipped her coffee in her quaint little flat, it was nestled in a safe neighbourhood, renowned for it’s food and produce markets. Sansa loved it, her father had an old friend of his, Arthur, pick it out for her himself, her father had insisted. Her brother had flown down with her and helped her settle, Robb had also insisted. Sansa had experienced very little of the world in her short life, that much she knew. A good family, privileged upbringing and a father that loves you will do that to a girl, they make you feel safe. Dorne however, well, Dorne had made her feel excited.

Today she was going to explore her newfound surroundings, her newfound freedom. For the first time in her life Sansa was alone, she had no responsibilities, no siblings homework to help with, no charity dinners to plan with her mother. She was always so very proper. _Dorne is yours, _she thought to herself.

She had dressed for the weather, she had never experienced heat like it nor had she been used to exposing so much skin, but needs must and honestly no one blinked twice at you in Dorne. Her dress was still conservative by Dornish standards. It was a deep forest green, like the trees in the Wolfswood, she had made it herself. It was sleeveless and had a boat neckline, exposing her entire collar bone, but not her cleavage, no that wasn’t Sansa. It pulled in at the waist before the chiffon material of the skirt swept softly down to the floor. She had cut in a slit that travelled to the mid-thigh after she arrived, all the women wore them and it was practical more than anything. The dark green fabric made her skin look porcelain, and her hair a fuller copper, like the pots and pans she had seen hanging in the market. The locals seemed to favour lighter colours, pinks, peaches and oranges, but Sansa had always loved Northern greens, blues and greys. She had finished her outfit with sandals and the dragonfly necklace she had been given for her 18th birthday, it had been her grandmothers.

She finished her coffee before twisting two strands of her hair from each side of her head and pining them at the back. There, she thought, still Northern, still Sansa, but Dorne’s Sansa. She grabbed her keys and her over the shoulder bag before heading out into the sun.

On reflection, she would remember this as the day that everything changed for Sansa Stark.

Sansa’s morning had been dizzily exciting. She had grabbed breakfast in the market, an old man who worked one of the stalls force fed her six different types of honey before she declared the first to be her favourite, he had laughed at her and said it was his also. Two Dornish sisters had spoken with her for about twenty minutes about her dress, she had ended up taking their numbers and promised she would commission something for them whilst she was here, she couldn’t wait to tell her mother, she knew she would be pleased for her. She had brought a Peace Lily for her flat from a flower stall, the vendor said she would have her son deliver it to her tomorrow so she did not have to carry it around all day before threading two white orchids into the back of her hair, “a Dornish flower for a Northern beauty,” she had told her.

Sansa had coffee and lemon cake at a café in the harbour, watching the little fishing boats come in from their morning’s work. It was so peaceful. In the early afternoon she took the tram to the Museum of Dornish Art. This had been the thing she was most looking forward to. She loved art, especially painting, she was fairly talented with watercolours, it being her favourite medium. She had already decided to return to the harbour with her palettes and brushes, she liked painting on different things she could find to use as a canvas, she was looking forward to searching the beach for an old piece of driftwood.

The museum was bustling, they seemed to be preparing for some sort of new exhibition, roped off areas and signs were being put up; ‘_The History of the Targaryen Dynasty – an ode to the Dragons’_ one of the posters read. _Oh yes, there’s nothing like an exhibition on mass murder, subjugation and mad tyrants to wet your appetite. _Not her scene, she thought to herself, give her water lilies and twilight landscapes any day.

She trailed the halls of the museum slowly, the building itself was beautiful, with large windows covering many of the high walls and ceilings, like mother’s glass garden she mused. She found herself lost in one hall, it featured a whole room of pieces based on the Water Gardens at the Palace. It was breath taking, she had never seen such compositions full of light and colour. She was quite alone apart from a handful of people that passed by each piece quickly, evidently holding little of the interest she did. She stood in front of a large canvas depicting a couple dancing in front of a fountain, it was quite lovely.

“Is this yours?” a low, rumbling voice sounded from behind her and snapped her out of her reverie.

She turned to face the man and she was sure her eyes had widened as their gazes met. He was startingly handsome, rugged, definitely muscular. His eyes were… beautiful, there was no other word for them, grey, like the stone walls of her childhood home. His hair was dark, like the water of her father’s pool in the Godwood, he wore it curly and wild around his face, a contrast to how he was dressed, so smartly, too smartly, his black cut suit must be uncomfortable in this heat she thought. His lips were distracting, her eyes had settled on them subconsciously. _Silly girl, stop staring at this strangers bloody_ _mouth_. 

“Well?” he prompted her, he looked bemused and had cocked an eyebrow as he waited. _Brilliant Sans,_ “Is this yours?” he repeated as he held up one of the orchids she had been wearing in her hair. She brought her hand up to the back of her head and felt that one of her pins had come lose.

“Oh yes, it must’ve fallen out,” she held her hand out, but he turned from her to face the painting and twirled the flower between his fingers.

“Hmm, or maybe you dropped it on purpose,” he spoke softly, his voice was so warm and rich, it reminded her of home, “maybe you dropped it to entice me over to you, isn’t that what maidens do, drop their favour for a gallant knight to catch.”

She frowned at him and glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, ‘major side eye’ as Arya called it, “If I see anyone gallant I’ll let you know, I think you are in the wrong century, life isn’t a song you know and I’m no maiden,” she addressed him in her most haughty voice, Robb would’ve called her Princess Sansa is he was here but honestly this guy deserved it.

He smirked at her and ran his hand across his beard, “Oh I don’t know, you look like a proper lady to me,” he said, his eyes ran over her, from head to toe before settling on her mouth. She was hypnotised following his stare, she felt naked in front of him. His eyes made her feel excited and she breathed in deeply, her chest rising and a traitorous blush staining her cheeks.

“Although,” he continued as he resumed his flower twirling, “I doubt you’ve ever had to do anything so silly to gain a man’s attention.”

She felt pinned to the spot under his gaze. Of course, she had garnered male attention before, she’d been charmed and wowed by boyfriends for a time, they wore her on their arms like a little bauble before they tired of her. But no one had ever made her feel so highly strung with a single look.

“You’re not from here.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement. He had turned back to the painting and appraised it. She felt more guarded when he was not looking at her, more like the Sansa she knew.

“No, I’m not. I’m from the North,” she replied softly.

“It’s a little warm down here for a Northern girl isn’t it?”

Gods he was persistent, she though, “I’m here for the summer, I have an internship at Summer Haus,” she responded primly.

“You must be a clever girl. How old are you?” he said.

“Excuse me?” _he has a bloody nerve._ “Are you always this direct?” she huffed. He turned back to her again and fused her to the spot with his stare, he intense and beautiful eyes, willing her to tell him anything she needed to know.

“Yes, always.” He stood and continued to stare at her, seconds went by, half a minute, longer and yet he continued to look at her “and besides, you’ve answered me every time so far, without hesitation. I like that,” he murmured quietly.

She bit her lip and saw his eyes flash down to where her teeth pulled on her lower lip before moving quickly back to her eyes. Her mouth moved against its own will.

“I’m twenty,” she answered.

“What’s your name Miss…?” he trailed off as he waited for her.

“Stark, Sansa Stark,” she answered immediately, she couldn’t stop giving him what he wanted, she found she needed to.

“Pretty name,” he muttered to the orchid as he held it in front of him and surveyed it once more, “Put your number and address in here,” he said swiftly as he pulled his phone from his inside pocket and held it out to her.

“and why would I do that?” She said.

“I have a spare ticket to the new exhibition opening tonight, you’re coming with me,” again it wasn’t a question. It was a statement, a command, she found her fingers grasping the phone in front of him. She had never done anything like this, not good and proper little Sansa, whose mother’s friends had arranged her dates before with their sons. She began to type her details into the screen, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, but she would go, he knew it too.

“You poor thing,” she deadpanned as she handed it back to him, “why would you want to go to something so ghastly?”

He huffed a laugh in response, “I honestly have no idea,” he responded. She rolled her eyes at him, she could see the muscles in his neck and jaw clench in response, odd, she thought.

“I will have a car pick you up at 8.”

“I don’t even know your name,” she raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.

“It’s Jon Snow,” he answered simply, he turned back to her, “I’ll see you tonight, wear another one of your pretty dresses,” he said as he stepped close to her, so close she could feel the slow and heavy breath he exhaled, he picked up a piece of the chiffon material against her thigh and it ran through his fingers like water, she felt the movement resonate low in her stomach, “Oh and Sansa,” he continued as he leant forward, “the next time you roll your eyes at me, I will take you across my knee,” he whispered.

_Fuck. _

With that Jon Snow turned and walked away from her, continuing to twirl her orchid between his fingers and not sparing her another glance.

_Fuck. _

Sansa Stark was in trouble. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this nonsense?  
I have not really worked out where I am going with this but I am rolling with it. 
> 
> Would you like me to continue with the flash back in the next chapter? And then continue with the story chronologically from there?
> 
> Would love to hear what you think, if anyone has any requests or suggestions please let me know!


	3. It's new.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa attends the exhibition gala with Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to continue with the flashback segment of the story, so we can see how their 'relationship' began. 
> 
> Enjoy!

<https://www.asos.com/forever-unique/forever-unique-floral-embroidered-maxi-dress/prd/10884046?clr=white&colourWayId=15141256&SearchQuery=&cid=5235>

Inspiration for Sansa’s dress

Sansa stood in her room, looking at herself in her floor length mirror, hands on hips, standing in her underwear. She realised she had been stood there for five minutes, staring aimlessly into space whilst she comprehended what on earth she was getting herself into.

She had agreed to go to a gala, one she had little interest in, with a man she had just met mere hours ago. Agreeing to such a thing with a complete stranger, was not something Sansa did. Sansa had been out with ‘nice’ boys with ‘good’ names, whether they turned out to be as _nice_ or as _good_ as their pedigree suggested was of little consequence. This man was different though, of that she was sure.

Jon Snow. His name was all she knew of him. During their time together in the museum she did not garner a single thing about him, he had demanded information and facts from her, and she had given him everything he wanted. She had not realised this till well after, that they had not spoken about him at all. Well that wasn’t entirely true, she could take two things from their conversation. One, was that he _was always direct, _and he had _liked it _that she had answered his every question or demand. That much was fairly simple. But secondly, well the second thing she had learned about Jon Snow had turned her on her axis; Jon Snow told her he would take her across his knee if she rolled her eyes at him again. _What the fuck?_

She knew she was blushing like a maid as he had walked away from her, he had made her blood run red hot as he’d whispered in her ear and she’d felt his breath ghost against her cheek. But it was what he had said, what he had implied that had made her want to squeeze her thighs together. He had made her feel more turned on than any other ‘boy’ had with their silly words and attempts at charming her.

As she continued to stare in the mirror she came to the simple conclusion; she wanted Jon Snow.

She was no idiot, she knew there was a good chance he wanted her too. He’s called her pretty, hadn’t he? She couldn’t help but ponder that maybe her was just a bit of a tease, maybe he just liked playing with pretty girls for a time before moving on to the next. He had taken her orchid and wouldn’t give it back to her, he’d invited her out tonight but then walked away without so much as a polite goodbye.

Her phone vibrated where it lay on her dresser. She tore herself away from her internal monologue and tapped into the screen.

There was a message, the number unknown although she knew immediately who it was;

**Unknown Number: A car will pick you up at 8. Attendance is mandatory, in case you are having second thoughts. **

No sign off, _wow this guy is a real piece of work. _She saved his number and responded quickly.

**Sansa: Mandatory? **

**Jon: Yes. You’re a clever thing. Be a good girl and do as you’re told. **

So, he wants a good girl, interesting.

**Sansa: What makes you think I’m a good girl?**

**Jon: Absolutely everything about you. What’s your dress like?**

**Sansa: Undecided at present. **

She knew exactly what she would be wearing but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction in knowing how much thought she had given it since meeting him.

**Jon: Intriguing. I will see you tonight. Wear your hair down. **

_By the Gods. _Was she about to let someone tell her how to wear her own hair? She rolled her eyes before catching herself in the mirror and burst into a fit of giggles as she recalled what he had said the last time she had done that. In that case, maybe she would let him tell her what to do a little while longer.

\----------

Sansa was ready by 7.45pm. She was never late. She stood in her sitting room, standing in front of the balcony doors, opened, the breeze swirling her skirts around her.

Her gown was pale, almost like her skin was bathed in champagne. The skirts billowed around her dramatically. She loved this dress, another she had made herself. She had painstakingly embroidered large purple flowers and rich leaves, like vines across the bodice and skirt, she had the blisters on her fingers to show for her work.

She knew the colour of the flowers would complement her skin tone. She had contemplated wearing her hair up before leaving it down, where it fell to her waist, just as he had told her to. She knew such a dress was required for an occasion like this, she had been going to these types of things all her life and Sansa Stark always did what was expected of her, it seems that Jon Snow knew that about her too.

She felt nervous, the tell-tale butterflies beat their wings in her stomach. Was this a date? She chided herself for over analysing this, for feeling like such a schoolgirl. She was twenty, in a foreign city on her own for the first time in her life. She could do this, she could go out with the handsome stranger, have a good time and that would be the end of it. She deserved this; it was all part of her adventure.

A black town car pulled up on the street below, he’s probably a drug dealer, she sighed to herself. She closed the balcony doors, grabbed her clutch and made her way out into the early evening. It was still light, there was a light breeze that made the scent of honeysuckle swirl around her.

A man stood in front of the car, “Miss Stark,” he addressed her as he opened the door for her. She slid into the car after offering a greeting, which was not easy as she tried to accommodate her skirts as gracefully as she could. She had thought Jon might be waiting for her in the car, but she was alone. She twiddled her hands in her lap. She considered asking the driver something about Jon but soon lost her courage, so she maintained silence.

In the car, the journey to the museum was a short drive away. The sun had begun to set behind the glass panels of the buildings. There were couples in black tie and dresses littering the steps leading up to the museum and, it was evidently an ostentatious affair. The driver opened the door for her, and she smoothed the skirts of her grown as she straightened herself after exiting the car.

As she raised her head, she locked her gaze with a blazing pair of grey eyes. Jon Snow stood above her at the top of the first level of stairs. He really did look unfairly good in his tuxedo. She could see the corner of his mouth twitch as he appraised her. She didn’t move from her spot, “a gentleman will come to you,” her mother had once told her. They continued to stare at each other for a few moments before he begun a brisk decent down the stairs. He stopped in front of her and held his hand out to her. It was such an old-fashioned gesture that it caught her slightly off guard. She swallowed thickly before gently placing her hand in his. He raised it to his lips and brushed a lingering kiss to the back of her hand. She could feel heat pool in her stomach at the touch of his lips to her skin. She could feel she blush rising from her chest, he would be able to see it, her pale skin would see to that.

“Sansa,” he said simply, as if testing her name, “Hmmm,” he muttered softly as he looked at her. She followed his gaze as it travelled from her face, down the front of her body, to her toes and back up again to her eyes.

“Hello,” she spoke in her softest voice.

“You paint a pretty picture this evening,” he told her, in that rough and mesmerising voice of his, “like one of those nice watercolours you were so interested in earlier today.” He finished. He had not let go of her hand she realised.

She dipped her chin shyly and looked down to hide her smile.

“I don’t think you have any idea how beautiful you are, do you?” he continued, he was frowning at her as if such a thing was a tragedy.

“Jon…” she exhaled a breath she had been holding before he interrupted her,

“Shall we?” he said, his deep, commanding tone had returned as he offered her him arm. She tucked her hand into his elbow, and he began to lead them slowly up the steps towards the museum.

“Your dress, you made it yourself.” It seemed a habit of his, to make statements instead of asking her questions.

“What gave me away?” She quipped with a smile, “I haven’t got a lose thread, have I?”

He laughed quietly, she thought it was the first time she had seen anything remotely close to a smile on his face, it made him look softer, younger, “No Sansa, you are perfect. I saw pictures of your final project from last year online, a series of dresses inspired by the Children of the Forest, ingenious,” he replied.

She whipped her head towards him, “You googled me?” She did not mean to sound accusatory and his mouth quirked up again.

“Yes. You didn’t google me?” he questioned.

“No, of course not, I would not wish to be _impolite,_” she emphasised. He raised his eyebrows at her and looked over her face, almost as if he was searching for something, he looked almost impressed.

“Well I must be impolite then,” he continued, “Sansa Stark, eldest and most treasured daughter of Ned Stark. Do-gooder, Straight A student, volunteers at the wolf preservation in her spare time. What is it they called you in the article? Oh yes, the Rose of Winterfell, now that’s very sweet,” he commented dryly.

“It’s a silly article,” she responded haughtily.

They had reached the top of the steps. A red carpet and banners had been set out,

“Out of the frying pan, and into the fire,” Jon muttered, almost to himself as he led her into the exhibition. 

They followed the crowd into the museum, the evening was being split into two parts, to start the guests could mingle and peruse the exhibition, the second being a formal dinner and the normal back-patting and speeches.

Jon handed her a glass of champagne from a server as they entered the gallery hall where the exhibition was being housed. It featured various pieces of art dedicated to and featuring the faces and exploits of the Targaryen Dynasty, starting from Aegon’s Conquer of Westeros and ending with the Long Night. Jon appeared to hold little interest in anything, in fact he stared at Sansa more than anything else.

They had paused in front of a painting depicting Torrhen Stark, bending the knee to the Dragon Conqueror, a pool of bloodied Northmen at his feet. Sansa cocked her head, only mildly distracted by Jon’s continued staring. She scowled at the painting.

“You don’t like it?” he asked.

“What’s to like?” she grimaced, “thousands of Northerners were killed under the Targaryen’s,” she surmised.

“Quite.” He intoned quietly. He turned her by her arm to face him, he reached up and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, “You wore it down, your hair,” he said.

“You told me to,” she bristled and clasped her hand together in front of her.

“I did indeed, you are a good listener Sansa,” he said in his commanding tone, though his gaze dropped to her mouth again.

She stood there, continuing to face him, unsure of herself. He made her want to fidget, “you stare quite a bit you know,” she said it like an accusation.

He huffed a laugh at her in response, “well when I find something more beautiful to look upon then I shall stare at that instead, although I imagine that is unlikely.”

She bit her lip to try and hide her grin, turning back to the painting. Her heart beat wildly in her chest and her pulse raced. She racked her mind for something to say, some way to return the conversation to normality to better reduce the sensation of pooling heat in her stomach.

“Well it seems you know so much about me already, thanks to your clever internet browsing. Do I not get to know anything about you?” she asked in her polite and sincere tone.

“There really is little to know Sansa,” he replied matter of factly. At that, the guests were being ushers into a makeshift banquet hall. Jon grabbed her hand this time and interlaced their fingers, she could feel the roughness of his calloused hands against hers, it made her wonder what they would feel like elsewhere on her body.

Jon had led her to a table at the front of the hall, directly in front of the stage. The ticket must have cost him a pretty penny, she thought to herself. He had pulled her chair out for her, ever the gentleman. She jolted when his hand grazed the small of her back as she settled into her chair, she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide and her lips parted. _Keep it together Sans._ He chuckled lightly as he took in her expression and settled into the seat next to her.

The evening continued as these types of evenings always did. The people were the same, there was a politician at their table, a city official, the museum director and his charming wife. The food was the same, the wine was likely sweet. But Sansa could not taste any of it, nor hear the mundane chatter around her. All she could pay attention to, was the soft press of Jon’s leg against hers as he answered the questions of their neighbours. As the meal finished, Jon draped his arm over the back of her chair and toyed with a strand of her hair. She sat straighter in her seat and rested her hands in her lap, she refused to continue allowing him to see how much he affected her.

“Always the perfect lady,” he muttered to her, “It’s very…distracting.”

_Distracting?_ That was interesting, she thought. She could be distracting. She turned her head towards him, looked coyly at him from underneath her eyelashes and bit her lip. She could see his gaze darken, two pools of deep grey, “I have no idea what you mean Jon,” she whispered.

During their exchange the stuffy Museum Director had taken to the lectern to address the room. Jon seemed to tear his gaze from her reluctantly before clearing his throat.

She vaguely became aware of his droning when a particular name snapped her attention back to the front of the room, “…and we would like to thank our patron for his continued support, ladies and gentleman, we are very pleased to have Jon Snow, son of Rhaegar Targaryen with us tonight as our guest of honour…”

Her head almost comically whirled back to Jon. _Targaryen? This is awkward._ He reluctantly stood at the behest of those on the table as the room applauded him. He nodded his head once and held his hand out to her. Sansa took it carefully, she felt like a rabbit in the headlights as he helped her to her feet before leaning in her ear to whisper, “now that’s done, let’s get out of here.”

She followed him back outside where they began to descend the steps at the front of the museum. There was a light breeze, it was cooler now. The sky was littered with stars, it was so clear down here, just like the North was. The sky reminded her of him, of his eyes and the way they sucked you in completely.

He had pulled her down the steps quickly, she was breathless once they reached the bottom from the effort to keep up with him in her dress and heels.

“Wait!” she breathed, “You’re a Targaryen,” she shook her head.

“I am a Snow, my father was a Targaryen. It’s a technicality,” he shrugged.

“I just stood in there insulting your family’s history, you should’ve told me and at least saved me that mortification, I called them ghastly earlier today!” she crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. He merely chuckled at her in response, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Well they were quite ghastly. I don’t disagree with you,” he laughed.

“Either way, it was rude of me, it was not the decent thing to do, I apologise for not being kind,” she said softly.

His eyes ran over again as he took in a deep breath. Her skin pebbled under his scrutiny, it likely had little to do with the breeze she was sure, “Decent… kind… all pretty words. Tell me Sansa, does it not get tiring being such a perfect and good girl all the time?” he ran his hand slowly up her arm as he spoke.

“…Never,” she exhaled.

“Hmmm, that’s what I thought. I did not divulge my family tree because it is of little consequence,” he continued, his tone was more measured, more direct once more, he stepped closer to her, their bodies were nearly flush against one another, “you on the other hand, Sansa Stark, I think you will be very important to me…” he murmured as he raised his hand to her face and slowly brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

It was too much, too intense. He made her want more. She wanted him to lean in, _kiss me, just kiss me Jon Snow. _She wanted to bite his thumb and drag him back to her flat, she had never had such thoughts before about another man.

“Your car is here,” he whispered.

“You… you are not coming… with me?” she stuttered.

“No. I have some business to attend to. The Tech Industry never sleeps apparently. Besides, if I got in that car with you looking as beautiful as you do tonight, blushing as prettily as you do now, I would likely never let you out of it again. Thank you for a pleasant evening Sansa,” with that he mirrored his earlier gesture, raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, “We will speak soon,” he stated.

Just as he did earlier that day, he turned on the spot and strode away from her, back up the steps to the museum, leaving her alone. She raised her hand to her lips, still feeling the burn from where his thumb had touched it as she watched him walk away, more confused than she had ever felt in her life.


	4. In the quiet of the night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa tries to play hard to get.  
Jon cannot stay away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a new chapter, go on, TAKE IT!  
I'm not overly thrilled with it, but once more unto the breach, dear friends! 
> 
> There is an extract featured in the chapter (in a note Jon writes) which is by Renata Suzuki, I own nothing, I credit it humbly as it is beautiful, and one of my favourite extracts EVER.

Sansa had spent a night tossing and turning, dosing in fitful spurts. No matter what she tried, she could not settle, and she knew the reason why, Jon Snow. _Tease of the century._ He had spent the previous evening offering his commanding, yet delicate touches, his piercing gazes and his soft whispers. She could still feel his rough and imposing hand in hers, the burning press of his hand on the small of her back, his gentle kiss on the back of her knuckles, and his bloody sinful thumb when it had ran across her lip. He must be an _utter bastard_ to leave her standing in the street, with a feeling in her stomach with the intensity of a coiled spring.

If Sansa was being honest with herself, she was pissed. She had been so obvious that she wanted him to kiss her, mostly irritated with her own eagerness. She had played along with him where she could but there was no keeping up with Jon’s game. He had made her want him, too much. It was all too much. It had not even been twenty-four hours since they had met and she had wanted him to take her home last night, or at least feel her up against her front door.

Jon Snow wasn’t playing fair, to touch a girl like that, tease her and tell her she was beautiful. He liked his games, that much was clear. Maybe he just wanted a pretty girl on his arm for the night like every other man she had met in the past. The Stark girl and a Targaryen, she scoffed to herself. It was almost poetically ironic. She had been pouting and sulking around her flat all morning, her brother would have laughed at her scowling face if he had been there to see it.

She was already late, she was not due to work today but had agreed to scout some possible locations for a new campaign with some of her fellow interns and she did not want to pass up on the opportunity to explore the city further. She had thrown on a pale green sundress and wore her hair lose, sun hat in hand. She had been tying her espadrilles around her ankles when her phone buzzed;

**Jon: Good morning, Sansa.**

She scowled at the phone. She really didn’t want to reply but she could already picture her Septa scolding a three-year-old version of herself to “remember her courtesies”.

**Sansa: Good Morning. **

She could already see he was typing; she was already running slightly late and did not have time to be his morning form of entertainment.

**Jon: What are you doing today? **

**Sansa: I’m working Jon, I have to go, have a nice day! **

She typed her response quickly, throwing her phone in her bag as soon as she was done and left her flat in a flurry.

\----------

Sansa was done by 3pm, it has been a great day. It had been nice being carefree with her colleagues, other twenty somethings just enjoying the city, like her, and no, she absolutely did not think about a certain brooding and intense individual, not even once…

She stopped at the market on her way home and brought some fresh fish, lemons and vegetables for dinner and a bottle of wine. She needed something to distract herself, something to stop herself from calling Jon and demanding he come over and _just fuck her already. _She was not that girl, no matter how much she wanted to be.

She opened her door and stood in the doorway. _Seven, bloody hells._ She stood rooted to the spot as she surveyed the sight in front of her. Her sitting room was covered in a sea of blue. The prettiest blue she had ever seen in the form of what must have been hundreds of winter roses. An array of bunches and arrangements littered the room, on the coffee table, the floors, she turned the corner into her open plan kitchen, and it was much the same.

The smell was overwhelming, it was so wonderful. She had never seen anything like it. It was over the top and ostentatious, but she couldn’t help the outrageously happy grin that spread across her face, she had always been too romantic for her own good. She fingered one of the roses, the petals were soft like silk. Amidst the worktop full of blue, she spotted a small card, she picked it up and turned it over;

_‘There is something between us, isn’t there?_

_A heat that burns like fire_

_But not simply lust and desire_

_No, this is something more_

_Something deeper I’ve never felt before_

_And it grips me every time I look at you _

_Just tell me I’m not imagining this_

_Tell me you feel the same’ _

The card was signed _J.S_. Of course, it was him, she had known immediately. She held the card to her chest and exhaled a shuddering breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding. She read the card again several times. It was too much, too generous, too much fire too soon.

She pulled out her phone. She considered calling him to thank him, but settled on a text message, yes, that was safer. She didn’t think she was brave enough to hear his voice.

**Sansa: Thank you Jon, the flowers are beautiful. It’s too much, but thank you, really. **

_Very articulate Sans_, she rolled her eyes at herself. His reply came immediately.

**Jon: It’s not enough. I want to see you, tonight. **

_Oh wonderful_, another one of his clever statements, the man seemed unable to ask a question like a decent person. Did she want to see him? She surveyed the room of flowers and knew that of course she did. But she thought back to last night and how confused and vulnerable he had made her feel. It was all too intense, perhaps she needed some breathing room, and maybe he could do with a dose of his own medicine, he seemed so fond of his clever little games after all.

**Sansa: I can’t tonight. I have a lot to do, some other time maybe. **

**Jon: Maybe? **

She smirked at herself before typing what she intended to be her final response;

**Sansa: If you are lucky. Have a good evening Jon. **

She laughed aloud to herself in satisfaction before lowering her nose to a bunch of roses and inhaling deeply. They were annoyingly nice.

\-----------

Sansa had decided to distract herself, save doing something she regretted, with some painting. It had been a few days since she had picked up her watercolours and she missed it. It was her greatest form of escapism. She opened her balcony doors as the sun had begun to set and she had changed, removing her dress and donning an old, oversized white shirt. It was covered in paint splotches and fell to her mid-thigh, she always wore one when painting, it was an old one of Robb’s that he had given to her. She rolled the sleeves up as she always did and tied her hair up, lose pieces of copper framing her face. She had poured herself a glass of wine and settled on a soft, classical playlist on her phone.

It was a beautiful evening, light streamed in through the window and a breeze fluttered gently through her gauzy curtains. She had been painting a scene of the Godswood from home, she had intended to gift it to her father for his next nameday. As her brushes danced across the canvas, she found herself adding dainty, blue roses around the edges. She rarely thought whilst she painted so she blushed when she realised what she had done. She couldn’t even paint anymore without thinking of him in some way.

She was torn from her reverie by a knocking at the door. She jumped in shock and raised her hand to her chest. No one had ever come to her flat. She walked to the door and looked through the peep hole._ Fuck_. Of course, it was him. And of course, she would be covered in paint and wearing a tatty old shirt, with nothing on her legs. Her mother would murder her if she let anyone see her like this, let alone a man. The thought made her smile and feel slightly devilish. If he could be a tease surely, she could too?

She steeled herself and took a deep breath, before opening to door as calmly as she could. She saw Jon’s eyes visibly widen as he took her in, his eyes settling unabashedly on her legs. His throat bobbed and he swallowed deeply,

“Sansa,” he said softly.

He looked so ruggedly handsome she wanted to scream, in his suite with his hair pulled back. It immediately made her feel far less confident and flirty than she had only moments ago, on the safety of her side of the door.

“Jon,” she whispered before stepping aside, she would never let anyone linger on the doorstep.

He breezed in as she closed the door behind her,

“I thought you said you were busy?” he asked, his deep thrown creasing his forehead, she wanted to smooth it away. He looked almost angry. She gestured with her hand down her body at her obvious state before replying,

“I am,” she said simply, it was frustrating really, he had been so confusing last night, a complete juxtaposition to today, with his texts, his flowers and his note, _that Gods forsaken beautiful note._ “Is this what you do when you don’t get your own way Jon, you just turn up and demand someone’s presence?” she asked haughtily and crossed her arms across her chest. She felt exposed under his gaze.

He ran his hand across his beard and sighed, “No Sansa, not normally, but with you it seems I cannot help myself, that’s why I left you last night, I felt some… distance would be good but it appears futile, I am completely incapable of staying away from you it seems,” he said honestly.

_Oh._

She could hear the sincerity in his voice. He wanted this, as much as her it would seem. She looked at the floor shyly. Maybe he thought of her as much as she had thought about him since they had met. She raised her chin, willing herself to be brave and took him by the hand, drawing him further into her flat and the sitting area, he followed her willingly.

“That’s a man’s shirt,” he said, his tone almost accusatory as he followed her into the sitting room.

“It was my brother’s,” she said primly.

“Good. I thought I could be an old boyfriends. Tell me Sansa, have there been boyfriends?” he asked.

She huffed a laugh and went to pour him a glass of wine, “Boys, just boys, never a man,” she ran her eyes over him, her intent clear as she placed the glass next to hers on the worktop.

“And tell me Sansa, these boys, were they good to you?” he asked absently, picking a piece of lint off his suit jacket.

“Some were kind to me,” she said flatly.

He chuckled at her, his gaze appeared darker, even as he stood on the other side of the room, “No Sansa, that’s not what I mean. Were they good to you?” she furrowed her brow in confusion before he continued, “Did they make you feel good, like the goddess you are? Did they make you come when they fucked you?”

She felt herself blushing under his wild stare, “Well… I suppose so,” she said quietly.

He smirked at her, his face dark and eyebrows quirked, “There is no suppose about it, you deserve someone who will take care of you, sweet girl.” He said adamantly.

“Jon…” she tried to intervene, to speak about something that would not make her cheeks flood and make of her think of him ‘taking care of her’. She could feel her muscles coiling.

“You like them then, the roses?” he interrupted as he took in the scene before him, “I had every intention of having a man bribe your landlady to bring them in but she seemed more than willing, she thought it was sweet apparently.”

“Well then she is as mad as you,” she pauses, “Did you mean it, what you said in your note?” she asked softly, his constant change and pace of conversation was bewildering, she had had enough of their games. She gripped the worktop behind her for some purchase.

“_There is something between us, isn’t there? A heat that burns like fire_,” he quoted his note to her as he stepped closer to where she stood against the counter.

“Jon…” she whispered.

He stepped closer still, there bodies flush against one another, she could feel the heat radiating from his chest as he continued,

“_But not simply lust and desire. No, this is something more_,” he continued as he traced her cheek with the back of his knuckle.

“Jon, please,” she couldn’t break his attention, his gaze flitting between her eyes and mouth as he continued,

“_Something deeper I’ve never felt before, and it grips me every time I look at you,”_ he whispers, “_just tell me I’m not imagining this. Tell me you feel the same_,” he finished quoting his own words from note, his eyes looked wild as he swallowed deeply. She was breathing wildly, her chest rising and falling rapidly,

“Sansa, what are you doing to me?” he pressed his forehead against hers, “Please, I need to have you, I need you to be mine, in every way… you own me, let me own you…” he whispered as he brought his hands to her face, framing her cheeks.

“Yes,” she whimpered, “Yes, Jon, yes.”

He looked down on her, his eyes roamed over her face and his hands stroked her cheeks, “Sansa…” he said her name in reverence, like a prayer, before crashing his lips to hers. Sansa gripped the sleeves of his jackets, imploring his closer as he pushed her against the kitchen counter.

Sansa had experienced first kisses before, but none like this. Nothing would ever compare to being kissed by Jon Snow. He led them completely, all she could do was follow. He ran his hands from her cheeks and into her hair, pulling lose her ponytail, allowing the copper strands to fall around her in waves.

He threaded his hands into her hair and clutched her head to him closer, he traced his tongue against her lip causing her to whimper, opening her mouth to him. He groaned as their tongues met, Sansa felt the sensation ripple through her body.

He broke the kiss and pulled back to look at her, their breath both ragged as they sought air, “tell me your mine,” he demanded.

“Yes, I’m yours,” she whispered.

He pressed a bruising kiss to her lips, before picking her up by the backs of her legs and sitting her on the worktop, nestled amongst her roses. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her eye as his other hand fisted in her paint splattered shirt at her stomach,

“You’re so good, so perfect Sansa,” he murmured as he lowered his head to her ear and nipped her ear lobe, she moaned softly and stretched her neck to expose more skin to him as he ran his hands up her bare thighs, “I have wanted you since the moment I saw you, in that fucking green dress with those flowers in your hair,” he spoke against her skin.

Sansa had never felt so alive. She burned for him. She wanted him to take and take whatever he wanted from her. She ached between her legs and clutched him to her tighter with her thighs. She found she had no control of her movements or thoughts, all Sansa knew was that she wanted this man, she wanted him desperately, “please,” she begged.

Sansa pulled Jon’s face back to hers and he kissed her feverishly, utterly consumed by him.

“There are things I want to show you, things I want to do to you and do with you,” he said as he broke their kiss. His eyes roamed hers intensely, searching her face for something, “things a good girl like you wouldn’t know about,” he continued, “things I would teach you, things that will show you how much I want you…” he told her as he gripped her thighs tightly.

It was the least controlled she had seen him, his beautiful mouth was swollen and pink, his chest rising and falling before her, his knuckles white as he clutched her legs almost painfully, and his eyes, _by Gods his beautiful eyes_, utterly wrecked and wild. She knew in that moment that she was Jon Snow’s, completely, she would follow him anywhere and she was irrevocably his.

Sansa realised she had made her decision long ago, when he twiddled her orchid in between his fingers and called her a lady. She had made her bed, and she would gladly lie in it.

“…Then show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNN.


	5. Devils roll the dice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon take the next step in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's 2.5k words of smut. Tally Ho!

Jon had carried her to her room over his shoulder, with ease, like she was a doll. He had slide her down his body and placed her gently on the floor which had been a deep contrast to the harsh way he had gripped the back of her legs. He looked at her, in that annoyingly measured way of his, he cupped her cheeks and stared deeply at her, for moments, maybe minutes. She closed her eyes under his scrutiny,

“No,” he commanded, “I need to see your eyes, I need to know that you want this,” he breath dancing across her lips.

She wrapped her hands around his wrists to keep his hands to her face, “I want whatever you will give me,” she reassured him in a whisper.

His eyes were black, the ebony almost swallowing the grey as he gently turned her so her back was flush against him, he had stood her in view of her floor length mirror, so she could see him nuzzling into her neck behind her. He pulled her hair, so it fell over one shoulder, and began to run his hands slowly down her arms, over her shirt sleeves. It was a slow torture, she thought to herself.

“I’ve noticed some things about you,” he murmured into her neck as his hands left her arms and continued their path, wrapping around her and settling on her stomach, rubbing nonsensical patterns onto the front of her shirt, it wasn’t enough, she wanted his touch on her bare skin, she tipped her head back to rest against him, “some lovely things…” he continued softly, “you like being good, you like you’re pretty manners. Do you want to be a good girl for me too?” He murmured into her ear before placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

“Yes,” she breathed out as she arched her back against him.

He raised his hands from her stomach, bringing them to the top button of her shirt, undoing the first button slowly.

“Good girl,” he replied reverently, “You like it when I tell you to do things, don’t you? You try and act like you don’t, but you always do them anyway, isn’t that right Sansa?” he continued as he undid the second button of her shirt.

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“Why?” He demanded, “answer me Sansa.”

“Because you like it, because... because I like it,” she whimpered as he ran his nose up the length of her neck before nipping at her jaw.

“Hmmm, clever girl,” he said as her undid the third button on her shirt, “I want you so much Sansa, you have to know that. I want to control you, I want you to…” he paused as he swallowed deeply before continuing, “I want you to submit yourself to me… but you have to realise, you have all of the power here, I would never do anything you didn’t want. Do you understand that sweet girl? I need you to be sure of that.”

“I do, I trust you,” she said with as much conviction as she could convey. He groaned into her neck in response as he undid the final button of her shirt. She lifted her head from against his shoulder to look at them both in the mirror, she found his gaze to already be locked on hers in the reflection, his face screamed of his desire for her. She arched her back again and she could feel his arousal for her.

“Tease,” he tutted, “You’ll only ever where my shirts from now on Sansa, no brother’s, no boyfriends, is that clear?” he added finally.

“Crystal,” she exhaled.

He chucked lowly as he slid the shirt off her shoulders, and it pooled at her feet. He began a slow circle of her, brushing her hip with his fingertips as he went, running his eyes up and down her body. She had never felt more wonderful, than standing there under his inspection, clad only in her black, lace underwear.

“Gods, you’re are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he sighed.

She had waited long enough, she pulled him towards her and kissed him, she moaned into his mouth as he pulled her flush against him, the feel of his clothed body against her flushed and sensitive skin was agonising. She ached between her thighs and pressed them together in desperation, “Please Jon,” she begged.

“Lay on the bed,” he told her.

She did as he said and watched him as he undressed. His body was intoxicating to look at as it was slowly revealed to her. She had never been with someone like Jon, so strong, so masculine.

“Come here,” he said as he stood at the foot of the bed. She came to him quickly, settling in front of him, looking up at him from her position on her knees, he ran his hand through her hair before leaning behind her, unhooking her bra and sliding it down her arms. He tossed is carelessly onto the floor as his gaze ran across her body.

“So perfect, so sweet,” he whispered almost to himself, she tried to implore him with her eyes, begging him to touch her. He traced her neck with his fingers, ghosting down to her collar bone and the swell of her breasts before gently rubbing a thumb across one nipple, causing her to suck in a deep breath.

He pushed her so she fell backwards onto the bed, her hair fanning around her like a fiery banner, “You look so pretty like this,” he whispered as he lowered himself over her, kissing her lips, her neck, before lowering himself to take one of her nipples in her mouth. She moaned as she arched her back, opening her legs to him further as he settled in between them.

“If you are a good girl for me Sansa, I will always take care of you,” he murmured against her chest, as he nipped and licked his way to her other breast, “But if you are not good, I will punish you.” He told her. She groaned again at his words and clutched him closer with her thighs. She had never felt so aroused in her life. _He would punish her?_ She shut her eyes tightly at the realisation that the thought turned her on.

He rose off her, ending his relentless torment of her breasts. He stood at the foot of the bed and grabbed one of the ankles before dragging her down the bed towards him. She yelped in surprise and his grip increased on her ankle. She rested on the edge of the bed and raised herself up on her elbows in time to see Jon lowering himself onto his knees on the floor.

“Jon,” she gasped.

“Patience now Sansa, good girls wait for what they want,” he said with a smirk on his face. He was enjoying his teasing, _the bastard._

He grasped her underwear as hips and pulled it slowly down her legs, “these are mine now,” he whispered as he placed a kiss on her ankle before beginning his ascent, placing feather light kisses and nips up her legs.

He hooked her legs over her shoulders and groaned loudly, “fuck. Look at how wet you are for me Sansa,” he sounded almost pained as he stroked the outside of her thighs as the rested over him.

“Please Jon,” she barked haughtily, her frustration evident in her tone. She needed him desperately, she had waited too long. She writhed in front of him, arching her back and moving further down the bed.

He gripped her hips harshly, “If you don’t keep still Sansa, I will tie you down, do you understand?” he ordered against her thigh.

By the gods, she should not want _that_, but she did.

“Yes,” she panted in anticipation.

“Good girl,” he whispered into her mound, “you have the most beautiful cunt I have ever had the pleasure of seeing, and it belongs to me now,” he murmured as he ran his nose along the length of her.

She bucked involuntarily against him, he clutched her legs harshly as he buried his face into her. She could feel him teasing her, pressing his tongue into her and swirling it around her nub before he sucked on it gently. She wanted to scream, she wanted to pull the walls down around them. She had never felt such a high in her life.

She ran her hands over her breasts, teasing her nipples as he continued with intent between her legs, nipping at her nub before running his tongue slowly, so slowly against her. She heard him groan, the effect vibrating against her swollen nub, she looked down at him to see that he was already watching her, his dark eyes locked on her breasts as she teased them.

Her first peak washed over her as she moaned Jon’s name loudly into the room. She could feel him teasing his hands softly over the area he had gripped so harshly on her thighs, it would be bruised tomorrow, she was sure, but she didn’t care.

“Hmmm, Sansa, you taste like heaven,” he murmured before kissing her hip bone. She felt him move above her and clutched at his shoulders as he nuzzled her nose with his, “tell me, sweet girl, have you ever tasted yourself before?” he asked before placing a bruising kiss to her lips, she moaned as she tasted herself on his tongue before he tore away from her.

She could feel his cock pressed against her centre, it was agony, to want him as badly as she did. He seemed to have little care for her obvious need for him and he kissed at her neck almost lazily, “But, my perfect little Sansa, you have displeased me,” he said darkly, “did you think I didn’t see you, touching your tits like that? They are mesmerising, I will give you that… but I did not give you permission to touch them, to tease me like that” he sharply tweaks one her nipples, and she cried out in response as she arched into him.

“We will have to do something to occupy those greedy hands of yours whilst I fuck you, my beautiful girl,” he breathed against her neck before rolling off her and rising from the bed. She let out a heavy breath as she tried to regulate her pounding heart. She could feel wetness pool between her legs at his promise. _Gods, she was desperate for him to fuck her._

He seemed to survey the room, turning around it slowly, she could see the thick hardness of his cock as he moved. He was so graceful, strong and sure. She lay there, spayed out on the bed, too apprehensive about what he would want to do to her if she moved. He chuckled softly to himself as he seemed to find what he was searching for as he fingered her silk dressing gown that hung on the back of the door. It was midnight blue, with a white lace trim, “such nice things…” he muttered as he pulled the cord free from the loops on the waist.

He kneeled back on the bed, in between her legs which he had spread widely before him, “hands, now,” he said simply. She obeyed immediately, placing her palms together and raising her hands in front of her, “is this how you prey to those Gods you Northerners love so much?” He smirked down at her.

“Not quite like this,” she said dryly.

“You minx,” he grinned as he began to glide the silky material of the cord around her wrists. She shivered violently at the feel of the silk against her skin. He tied it securely, tight, but not painful and tugged on the knot to test it.

“There,” he muttered, “I’ve thought about you like this since the moment we met,” he continued, as he raised her hands so they lay above her head, he lay flush above her, the feel of him on top of her caused her to begin to pant in anticipation.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” he implored her.

Instead of answering she wrapped her legs around his waist, rolling her hips slowly into him, before looking up so his eyes followed hers to her hands, where she pulled against the cord around her wrists.

“Good girl,” he groaned into her neck, she could feel him press his cock against her, rubbing it slowly against her. She rolled her hips again and whimpered, “Please Jon, I need you please,” she begged.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he pushed into her quickly. She could feel him stretch her, it was agonising perfection. He cupped her face with one palm as he paused at the sensation, he pressed his forehead against her, “you have ruined me,” he whispered darkly against her mouth.

Before she could reply he began to move, fucking her with slow, deep and bruising thrusts. She moaned and writhed beneath him, she pulled her bound hands down to cover her mouth before he grabbed them and flung them back above her head,

“No, I want to see you like this,” he demanded, “only for me.”

He grabbed onto her thigh, running his hand around to squeeze her arse for purchase. She whined louder, throwing her head from side to side, desperate to touch him but she dared not move her arms.

“That’s it,” he muttered, “You can feel it, you’re nearly there, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips and he increased his pace. She could feel her orgasm, building like flames in a fire within her, she bucked her hips, meeting his thrusts one by one.

“Please, Jon,” she whimpered, for no reason other than for some outlet for the feeling that was coursing in her.

“I want to see you come again,” he said before sucking at her neck and running his hand down to her clit, “You can put your arms around me now,” he told her.

“Thank the gods,” she cursed as she draped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his thumb ran in hard circles around her nub.

“Oh Jon,” she cried as she came once more under his hand, her body shuddered violently and he groaned into her neck as he followed her, his weight collapsed deliciously on top of her.

Sansa felt utterly exhausted, she could feel him move off her, pulling quickly at the knots at her wrists, undoing the cord. He kissed her wrists and rubbed them gently, her eyes closing against his ministrations. She could hear him telling her she was perfect, she was his and that she was beautiful. She felt him get up and return with a washcloth, she could feel the warm press of it between her thighs as he cleaned her, all the while muttering his sweet endearments. Sansa felt him lift her and drape the covers over them as he pulled her into him. She could feel the press of his lips at her temple and his hands as they carded through her hair. She could feel all of this, but Sansa couldn’t bring herself to say a word as she drifted off into a deep and exhausted sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it.  
I think our next chapter will delve into the dynamics of this kind of relationship, including after care and power dynamics, with more background on Jon and what he wants/hopes for.


	6. In breakable heaven.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wants to talk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut and fluff lay ahead, ye have been warned. 
> 
> I have been firing out chapters quite rapidly for this so please make sure you have flipped back to any previous chapters if needed so you don't miss any Jonsa goodness.

Sansa woke up wrapped in Jon Snow. His arm lay heavy on top of her, clutching her to him from behind and her leg was tangled between his. His hand lay possessively, splayed against her stomach as he slept deeply beside her. She felt wonderfully comfortable, surrounded by him, warm and safe. She could’ve laid there all morning, but she was never one to sleep in. She disentangled herself from him as gently as she could and slid out of her bed. She put on a pair of white, French knickers and smiled coyly to herself as she shrugged on Jon’s shirt, that he had discarded last night, recalling how he had demanded she only wear his from now on, and no one else’s.

She tip-toed to the kitchen and considered what she would make him for breakfast, she loved taking care of people, it was deeply imbedded in her nature, and she would take care of him, if he let her. She was glad she had awakened before him. It gave her time to think, time to reflect on everything that had happened between them. They seemed to feel equally drawn to each other, with such a great intensity, it made her feel nervous, to feel as she did towards him so soon, to want him in every way, to make herself so vulnerable to him, in a way she never had with anyone else before.

Despite her doubts and apprehension, Sansa was absolutely certain that in the space of a few days, she was utterly gone on Jon Snow.

They needed to speak she realised, to discuss ‘what this was’. She had hoped it wasn’t just about sex, he couldn’t stay away from her, he had told her that himself, but a small nagging voice in her head which oddly sounded like her mother reminded her that she had known this man for mere days, and here she was, wearing his shirt and wearing his bruises on her neck like a badge.

She had known he was different; _the man had told her he wanted to take her across his knee during their very first conversation for Gods sake._ However, she was sure he had gone easy on her last night, had held back in some way, restrained his urges and tempered his desire.

She had loved every moment of him being in her bed, the feel of him above her, his hands bruising her thighs, his sinful mouth making her come, how he made her beg him, when he’d bound her wrists, _by the gods she had loved that_. She pressed her legs together in memory. Sansa was no maiden, she had been with men before, but no one had read her so clearly as he had. She knew there was no going without Jon Snow now. If he wanted her, he could have her.

She found herself blushing at the memories from the previous night. She felt foolish on reflection, how could she want to tie herself to another when she would be leaving in four weeks, back to Winterfell and her life. They had much to discuss it seemed.

She pulled some fruit from the fridge, so she could slice it up for a platter, and some honey bread from the cupboard. Her phoned buzzed on the worktop and she picked it up, a wide smile donning her face as she read a message from her brother;

**Robb: I miss you little sister. How is Dorne treating you Princess Sansa? **

She scowled in annoyance at her childhood nickname, some things just seemed to stick.

**Sansa: I miss you more my King, call me? **

Her phone rang within moments, a cheesy picture of Robb running with her on his back plastered the screen. She hit the speaker phone, grinning before he launched into conversation without even a greeting.

“Please don’t call me ‘my King’ Sans…” he groaned.

“Well you are the King in the North, are you not brother dearest?” she teased back.

“I was eight, leave me alone,” he huffed, although she could hear his teasing lilt through the line, “how are you though Sans? Seriously, I miss you, everyone is driving me mad.”

“It’s because your only sane sibling is in Dorne,” she quipped as she began slicing the fruit she had selected, “I’m well Robb… really well,” she frowned, in her current state of cheerful confusion.

“I can practically hear your giddiness through the phone. What’s going on?” Robb’s overprotective radar knew no bounds or time zones apparently.

“Nothing is going on Robb,” she huffed, “You’re exasperating.”

“Fine, well Father needs me to see to some accounts for him in King’s Landing in two weeks, seeing as he is sending me to that Gods forsaken place, I thought I might pop down and see you for a few days before heading back,” he finished.

“Oh Robb, that would be great,” she smiled widely. He could always make her feel at such ease, she was so comfortable with him, he was home to her.

He began updating her on some of the things she had missed, she laughed out loud when he told her about a brawl Rickon had started at his Rugby match. She missed them, she really did. Dorne was amazing but it wasn’t home.

She finished slicing and arranging her breakfast platter, interjecting here and there when the conversation demanded. So engrossed in her task, she hadn’t noticed the presence behind her until a strong pair of arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her against him.

She gasped in surprised as he nuzzled into her neck.

“Sans what’s wrong?” Robb asked in concern on the speakerphone.

“Nothing Robb, I stubbed my toe,” lying quickly as Jon began to pepper her neck with light kisses.

_Yes, that was much safer than telling him that the man who had tied up and fucked his little sister into the orgasm of her life was now grinding himself against her, yes… much safer. _

“Robb, I better go. I will speak to you soon, goodbye my King,” she giggled.

“Har-har,” he deadpanned, “see you soon my Princess.”

Sansa cut the line and tried to bat Jon’s arms away, but he just gripped her sides tighter.

“Princess?” he questioned into her neck, she could feel his smile against her skin,

“Don’t ask, apparently I always had a bit of a silver spoon in my mouth when I was a little girl,” she explained, tilting her neck to the side to expose more of her throat to him.

“Hmm, I cannot imagine that all,” he muttered sarcastically. He turned her around, placing his hands on either side of the worktop, boxing her in, “Good morning Sansa,” he whispered as he leant in and placed a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Good morning,” she replied demurely, lowering her gaze, her previous bravado suddenly gone. He held her chin in place with his hand and ran his eyes over her face,

“You’re beautiful,” he stated.

“You keep saying that,” she whispered against his lips.

“It’s because its true,” he snorted in annoyance.

Much like he had done the previous night, he lifted her by the back of the legs and placed her on the side, it was unnerving really, how easily and readily she went wherever he wanted her to go, “nice shirt,” he commented as he fingered the collar.

“Thank you, I am merely doing as I was told,” she replied coyly before biting her lip, taking in the sight of him in just his boxers before her.

“I can see that,” he murmured, “such a good girl, kiss me Sansa,” he instructed her.

She circled her arms around his neck immediately and pulled him towards her, locking her mouth with this. They kissed hungrily before she tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth.

“That’s not very nice, is it Sansa?” he muttered, although judging by the blazing look in his eye she believed he might have thought it was rather nice actually.

She shrugged innocently, “well you are distracting me, and I made us breakfast.”

“Good, I am suddenly ravenous,” he made his point clear by pushing his hardness into her. She giggled and reached to the side of her, grabbed a grape from the platter and offering it to him. He opened his mouth and she popped it in. he grinned cockily at her as he chewed it. She hadn’t seen this carefree side of him before. It was sweet, but she couldn’t help but think it was just another one of the many sides of Jon’s personalities to add to her growing list.

He in turn reached for a small piece of melon and held it up to her lips, she took the melon between her teeth but held onto his wrist, stilling his hand. She swallowed the melon quickly before taking his finger into her mouth and sucking the juice from it generously.

“What are you doing to me?” He whispered as he shook his head, as she released his finger from her mouth with a pop.

She held her hands up in mock surrender and batted her lashes at him innocently. She was playing with fire, she knew.

“Kiss me again,” he told her. She bit her lip and shook her head slowly at him, pushing against his chest with her hands.

“Sansa,” he warned, “Kiss me, I asked you perfectly nicely.”

She licked her lips slowly, watching as his gaze dropped to her mouth, “make me,” she whispered.

“What did you say?” he cocked his head to the side, his pupils dilating before her.

“_Make me_.” 

\----------

She had hoped she knew what she was doing, she likely didn’t, but she would soon find out, she thought to herself as he bent her over her small kitchen table. Jon had begun tracing circles on the back of her thighs in a torturous fashion.

“I thought you were such a good girl Sansa,” he commented as he traced the lace edge of her underwear.

“I am,” she moaned as she pushed herself back against his hands.

He laughed, “I don’t think so sweetheart, because this is what you want isn’t it?” he asked as he shoved the back of Sansa’s shirt up, over her hips, “that’s why you push, because you want this,” he ran a finger lightly across her slit over her underwear.

She looked back over her shoulder, whimpering as she rolled her arse back towards him.

“Don’t look at me,” he said softly. “Was this what you wanted? I won’t ask you again Sansa.”

“Yes,” she hummed loudly, all but shouting at him is frustration.

He pulled her knickers down slowly, leaving them around her lower legs, stopping her from spreading her legs wider.

She had begun the morning determined to sit him down and talk, adult to adult about what was going on, set some boundaries, and perhaps gently press the breaks slightly on the intensity and speed of their new found relationship, if you could even call it that. Yet here she was, bent flush over her table, panting into the wood, minus her underwear, _great talk Sans._

It was agony not being able to look at him, not knowing exactly where he was, or what he was doing, save for the ghosting touches every now and then. She reached her hands across the table and gripped onto the edge for something, anything to ground herself with.

“Please Jon,” she whimpered.

“Tell me you want this…” he said, his voice sounded strained. She felt him blow a cold breath of air against her aching centre.

“Yes, yes I want this,” she spoke into the wood of the table, dizzy in anticipation, pulling herself closer to the table for more friction.

“Why?” he asked, his hands now sliding across the small of her back.

“Because I asked for it,” she whined, “because I wouldn’t kiss you, and I told you to make me,” she puffed with finality. _Now, please, for the love of the gods._

_Smack. _

The first strike met her arse and she felt her body tense as the sensation rippled up her spine, _Seven save her_, she knew immediately that she loved it, she loved this, Jon standing over her and spanking her before bringing his hand down to gently carress the tingling skin. The contrast of the strike against his measured and caring ministrations was euphoric.

She pushed herself back into his hand, begging for more.

The second struck her lower, landing between both cheeks, closer to her centre. She whimpered and keened underneath him as he stroked her softly. Between her broken and laboured breaths she could hear him cursing and groaning as he rubbed her skin.

The third and fourth slap landed lower still, she felt herself tightening as she throbbed between her legs wickedly. He felt him press the tip of his cock into her, having pushed down his boxers, teasing her, she tried to push back against him, desperate for more and whined in frustration when he pinned her to the table by her hips.

“You’re she fucking wet Sansa,” he signed as he continued to rub and press his cock against her, “such a good girl,” he lamented.

“Please Jon, I just want you inside me,” she begged him, she could hear the desperation in her voice, how utterly wrecked she must sound but she didn’t care, she just needed more.

“Good girl, you’ve been so good to me,” he assured her.

He thrusted into her harshly, seating himself in her fully in one motion. She cried out as he growled behind her. He set a punishing pace, moving out of her before smacking back in, again and again. She edge of the table cut into the front of her thighs, she wasn’t sure how much more she could take before her legs gave out.

“This perfect fucking cunt,” he cursed through gritted teeth behind her, “you’re so tight, so wet…” his words were jagged and broken behind her as he gripped her hips, digging his finger nails into her skin.

“Your, Jon, yours,” she affirmed, she could feel her eyes moistening as she begged for release, hurtling closer to her peak.

“Jon,” she screamed as she canted her hips back into him, it was the most unladylike noise she had ever made as she came with a shuddering force beneath him.

“Good girl,” he panted, “so good Sansa,” before he groaned roughly as she felt him release deep inside her, falling over her onto the table, she was glad his weight pinned her down as she tried to steady her breath, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand if she tried.

He stoked her hair as he kissed her neck, “Gods, you’re going to kill me,” he muttered and she hummed in response, incapable of little else, “are you ok sweetheart?” he asked against her skin in between kissed.

“Yes,” she breathed, “Jon, the table… I can’t feel my legs,” she pled.

“Fuck,” he slid out of her and pulled her up with him, turning her so he could pick her up and wrap her legs around him. Her head dropped against his shoulder. He carried her back to her bed and laid her down gently. He left the room for a moment before he returned with a cloth, just as he did last night. She frowned at him as he approached her, “Don’t argue with me Sansa, I’m taking care of you, end of story,” she pouted in response to him but let him continue with his efforts. He lay down with her, face to face and hugged her to him, she came willingly, he clutched her closer and he gently rubbed the sensitive skin where he had struck her earlier.

“Jon…” she whispered against his chest.

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“I… well, I really liked it,” she muttered reservedly as she looked up at him.

He chuckled into her hair before pulling back to look at her, “I know you did, perfect, beautiful little lady,” he whispered. He kissed her lips, and her cheeks and pulled her closer still against him. She felt so cherished, so warm in his arms, it was startling.

She felt utterly overwhelmed.

“…Jon, we need to talk.”

\----------

Jon shook his head and sighed.

“Can’t I at least bask in the afterglow of fucking you for five more minutes?” he asked.

“No Jon, I made us breakfast so we could talk, look where that got us,” she giggled and scrunched her nose against him. She sat up, moving away from his slightly, it was much easier to talk to him when she wasn’t pressed up against him, “Jon this has been…”

“Amazing, break taking, the best sex I’ve ever had with the most beautiful, funny, clever woman I’ve ever met…” he smiled at her.

“Intense, I was going to say intense,” he laughed.

“I know,” he sighed, “everything about us has been intense,” he opened his arms, beckoning her closer, Sansa’s resistance crumbling as she laid down in his embrace once more. He took a deep breath before continuing, “I haven’t done anything like this before Sansa, it’s important that you understand that, I mean there have been other woman, but not like you, nothing this… consuming. I told you last night I am incapable of staying away form you, not until you send me away.” He ran his hand softly through her copper hair.

“The way you are with me…” she fiddled nervously with her fingers against her chest, “the way you want to… control me, have you always been like that?”

He seemed to weigh up her question for a few moments, brows furrowed, “there are two parts to that answer. The first is, I suppose it is a bit about control, but that’s not all of it. Sure, maybe I have always liked being controlling in bed, but I’ve never had this with anyone else, this need, for you to be mine. I want to take care of you, it’s like a power dynamic I suppose,” he shrugged as he continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve thought about how you would look tied up in front of me, or your perfect arse red from my hand since the moment you got out of the car in that fucking excuse for a gown at the gala, but it’s the fact you want me to do those things to you, that you ask me to that gets me off more than anything, it’s the way you trust me, when I have no right to that trust that turns me on. Does that make sense?” he implored, his gaze sincere.

“Yes, Jon, I think it does,” she bit her lip as she smiled up at him.

He pulled her lip from her teeth with his thumb before bopping her on the nose with his finger, “the thing is, that it’s really you who has the control. I need you, I couldn’t just be like this with anyone, this comfortable. I want to take care of you, it gets me off giving you pleasure, like honestly Sansa, I cannot put into words what it is like watching you come,” she felt her cheeks flush from his words, which was ironic really considering what they had just done, “this pretty blush…” he muttered to himself as he ran a finger down her cheek.

“I want to see how far you can go, how far we will want to take things together. If it’s too fast for you, just say, and we will stop right now, you have my word, but this doesn’t feel abnormal to me. I feel like maybe I’ve been waiting for you. Do you think you can understand that?”

She leant up and kissed him gently on the lips, “Jon Snow, tech mogul, Targaryen, lover and philosopher,” she giggled against his mouth.

“I hope you’re not making fun of me Miss Stark…” he grinned up at her, his eyes shrinking at the corners.

“Would I ever, Mr Snow,” she teased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be our last chapter in the past. The next chapter will forward ahead three weeks (when our first chapter was set). 
> 
> It has been really important to me to portray a relationship with D/S undertones really carefully and sensibly. I have read professionally published novels on this subject matter and have at times found the narrative to be quite damaging (50 Shades I'm looking at you, I couldn't even finish the first book as I found the relationship to be manipulative and abusive). In no way am I an oracle on such things, this is just my personal thought process on a D/S relationship, and I hope that comes across in this chapter. 
> 
> It is also worth noting that I edited this chapter last night after three large gin and tonics, but I am British so that is basically a light lunch for me *shrugs*


	7. Angels roll their eyes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa reflects on what she has learnt about Jon Snow.
> 
> & Jon and Sansa reunite after spending some time apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is 3.5K words of plotless smuttiness. Blessed day! 
> 
> Side note, I wont say I didn't have fun researching for this chapter, that would be a gross injustice.

In the weeks that followed, despite Jon’s initial reservations about talking about himself, Sansa had discovered much about him.

The fact that he craved control over all aspects of his life was clearly due to the fact he had never had any say in anything in his formative years. Jon had not had any control over the fact his mother had died when he was ten, he had no control when he was sent to live with his estranged father, whom he had never met and he had no control when his father passed away when Jon was twenty-five, leaving him with a Technology Conglomerate and 2500 employees who wanted his reassurance and guidance.

He had grown up amongst chaos, so by the age of twenty-seven, she thought it was fair that perhaps he had just had enough, maybe it was ok that he wanted order, dominance and direction in all facets of his life.

Jon worked uncommonly hard, he reminded her so much of how her father did things. She had seen first-hand how people respected him and how he treated everyone kindly when she had visited him in his office for lunch one day. The fact she had sucked his cock under his desk whilst he was on a conference call was beside the point.

Jon’s dedication to his work suited her, Sansa had, after all, been in Dorne for her internship and she wanted to gain as much as she could from this experience. They would often work long hours and meet each night, overrun with passion from being apart, as young lovers often are. Jon would always make time for her, they had dinners and went on dates, he even took her to the ballet after she mentioned she loved it. She had been so moved she had cried during the performance, it had pained him to see her cry, happy tears or not and he threatened to go down on her in their box if she didn’t stop, she had almost considered letting him for a moment.

No matter how they spent their evening they would always end up in one of their beds. Jon was always more intense when they went to his place, she didn’t know why, but he would spend longer toying with her, playing his games and would fuck her harder when they were in his bed. Sometimes that was what she wanted, she would crave more that what they had shared the night before so she would suggest going to his apartment, his eyes would always darken when Sansa suggested it.

The first time he had taken her in his room, she had called him ‘Sir’ to tease him whilst he had taken her from behind, her hands tied behind her back and her hair wrapped around his wrist, he came there and then and demanded she only ever address him as ‘Sir’ when they were in _his_ bed, unless he told her otherwise.

In turn, Jon had learnt a lot about her too. Well, it was not like she needed to tell him what she wanted, or what she liked, Jon just seemed to always know. It was like he could read her like one of his clever codes on his computer. He also had certain expectations he wanted her to follow, predominantly around communication, he wanted her to always tell him if she did or did not like something. He knew she liked it when he treated her like a lady, he would pull out a chair for her or kiss her hand. Jon also know she loved it when he would hold her down or pull her hair. She liked pushing the boundaries when he told her to do something, sometimes she would tease him just so he would tie her up, she would always submit in the end, no matter how much she played with him and Jon knew she liked their games just as much as he did. Sansa liked affection though, especially after, not that Jon minded, she knew, he would gladly take any excuse to touch her and just be with her.

They had also both learnt that they had to, despite great difficulty, spend time apart. Jon had been away in White Harbour, for meetings at his Northern Offices. They had not seen each other for three nights. It had not been without strain, he had sent her a very detailed email this morning describing the things he had missed doing to her, it was so filthy it had made her cheeks redden. She had gotten her own back though, by sending him a photo of her in the black, lace body she was wearing, it was indecently see-through. Jon would like, he had brought it for her after all. She was giddy with the thrill that she knew he would get his revenge later.

That is how Sansa found herself at his door, wearing her lace body underneath her demure looking, pale blue sundress and already wet between her thighs. He had already left the door ajar for her, Jon’s driver would have alerted him when they had arrived, always so organised. She let herself in, closing the door softly.

“Hello,” she called out from the entrance hall before rounding the corner. His apartment, because you really couldn’t call it a flat, was large and open plan. A large sitting room flowed into the kitchen which was grey and steely. It was light and simply decorated. The whole place was obviously masculine.

Jon was stood leaving against the island in the kitchen, looking at his phone, he discarded it on the side as soon as he saw her. He smiled softly, his eyes drinking her in as she walked over to him. He opened his arms to her immediately and she wrapped her around his neck.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. It was how he always greeted her now.

“You always say that,” she answered sweetly as she lent in and kissed him gently on the lips before pulling back. He grabbed at the back of her head and pulled her back in, holding her in place and kissing her deeply. She whimpered into his mouth as he pulled her closer still before releasing her,

“Now that’s a proper kiss,” he muttered as he ran his nose along her jaw, breathing in deeply, “I missed you Sansa.”

“I missed you too,” it must be obvious how much she had missed him, by the way she clung desperately to his black t-shirt. He looked so comfortable when he was at home, in his fitted jeans and with his hair tied back.

“Do you want anything?” he asked, “something to eat, or drink?”

“No thank you Jon, just you,” she stated politely with a timid smile to her lips. 

Jon chuckled lightly before pulling her back in, kissing her more harshly this time. She bit at his lip and he groaned, pushing his tongue into her mouth. His hands moved down from her lower back, clutching her cheeks and lifting her off the ground. She kicked her sandals off whilst she was in the air.

He deposited her back on the ground and pulled back to look at her. His eyed were stormy as his hand ghosted her cheek,

“I have something to show you, I brought you something,” he told her, “well I suppose it’s really for me,” he smirked at her, “but I think you will like it.”

“What is it?” she replied breathlessly.

“Retribution,” he said simply, his smile was now almost wolfish, “for sending me that little photo of you this morning, in that poor excuse for underwear. You like teasing me don’t you Sansa?” she nodded, wide eyes in response.

“Hmmm, I know you do. Tell me, are you wearing it now?” he continued, gripping her chin in his hand so she couldn’t look away.

She nodded again, she must look like a doe, starring at her hunter.

“Naughty, very naughty Sansa. I want you to go into my room and take off this little dress that your mother would approve of so much and wait for me. I left my gift on the bed for you, you can look at it if you want,” he finished before kissing her once on the lips and releasing her from his hold.

She bit her lip but didn’t response as she walked towards the hallway that led to the bedrooms. She took off her dress as she walked into the bedroom and left it carelessly on the floor by the door so he would see it.

Sansa found a box on the bed; he really was an impressive planner. She took off the lid and cast aside the white tissue paper. She picked up one of the objects in the box and fingered the black leather. It had one large circular loop, with a smaller one attached to it, almost like a figure eight, each loop had a buckle. There was two in the box, a matching pair.

She stood there in the lace body suit trying to analyse what they were. Was it some kind of collar? No, Jon knew she did not want to be choked, they had discussed that before.

“What do you think?” Jon asked softly from the doorway. She turned; brow furrowed as he leant on the wall.

“What are they?” she asked.

He stalked towards her slowly and took the strap from her hand and tossed it on the bed in front of them. He plucked at the strap of her underwear, causing her to jump when he snapped it before running the back of his hand down across her lace covered nipple.

“This is even better in the flesh,” he told her.

“What are they?” she repeated.

“Always so impatient Sansa, always so eager for me,” he tutted, “do you want me to show you what they are for?”

Sansa nodded, “yes,” her voice was whispery with anticipation.

Jon picked up the straps and turned her, so she was facing the bed and her back was flush against his front, “I like this,” he said absentmindedly, tugging on her braided hair, which hung like a copper rope down her back. She grinned to herself as he dropped to his knees behind her.

He nipped playfully at the back of her leg, before wrapping the larger of the two straps around her upper thigh. The leather was cold against her skin as he buckled it in place.

“Sansa, give me your hand,” he whispered gently. She did as he said immediately and he rested her hand against the side of her thigh, he then wrapped the free strap, the smaller of the two that was attached to her thigh around her wrist, “It’s called a thigh-to-hand restraint,” he told her as he rubbed his hands up and down the back of her legs.

He repeated his actions on her other side, clasping her wrist down to the side of her leg. She pulled her wrists outwards to test them and could not move at all. She heard him hum appreciatively from behind her. He stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against her,

“What do you think? Jon asked as he rubbed his nose against her neck.

_Fucking aroused,_ that was her immediate thought. She arched in him and dropped her head back to rest on his shoulder, “I think I like my gift very much, Sir,” she whispered barely audible.

With that he knocked her legs from under her and picked her up, she couldn’t move her arms to wrap them around his neck as she normally would. He threw her unceremoniously onto the bed, she yelped in shock. Jon had already removed his t-shirt. He stood over her, looking down with fire in his eyes. His stare made her pull on the straps, causing her back to arch involuntarily.

“You look so stunning like this Sansa, I wish you could see what I see,” he intoned. “You won’t be able to move as much, so when I fuck you with my tongue to start with, it will feel a lot more… intense. You can take it though, I know you can. You remember your safe word? He finished as he moved only the bed, lowering himself between her legs.

Throughout his whole little speech, Sansa had found herself growing more restless. The restraints still permitted her to move her feet, yet every time she pulled her wrists, her legs would follow, causing them to spread further, which was ironic really considering this was how she got in this situation in the first place, by sending him a flirty picture of her in her underwear.

“Gods I fucking love these,” he muttered as he began kissing her thigh, before running his nose along her underwear, “you’re soaked Sansa, you’ve ruined your pretty little outfit,” with that he tore the front covering her mound easily. She groaned as she felt the cool air against her wetness.

He placed a kiss at the apex of her thigh, “now, how is it that you find yourself in this current predicament Sansa?”

She whimpered, trying to push herself pointlessly to something, anything for more friction, the restrains rendering her efforts futile, “because I teased you Sir.”

“That’s right, and you knew we would end up here all the same.”

_Smug Bastard. _

She groaned as his tongue came into contact with her swollen, aching skin. _Finally_, she thought desperately. Jon swirled his tongue around her before closing his mouth around her nub. She bucked in response, she loved it when he did that and she keened underneath him in response. She could hear herself begging him as he continued to lavish her.

She pulled at the restraints for purchase, causing her legs to spread further, almost painfully and Jon growled into her in tandem. It was agony not being able to grab onto him or run her hands through his hair. She could feel everything and dug her nails into her thighs, trying to take hold of something.

She was close, desperately close, pulling harshly on the restraints, Jon sucked on her nub before releasing her quickly, halting the building sensation she had been feeling in her stomach.

She whined and frowned down at him in confusion. He merely grinned at her smugly, His mouth wet and glistening from her, “please,” she begged.

He rose up to her and kissed her languidly on the mouth, “I’m just not ready for you to come yet,” he revealed.

She keened underneath him in frustration, whining as he descended back down, kissing across her lace covered breasts and stomach.

Jon settled back between her legs, kissing and licking at her softly as his hands ran delicate patterns across her thighs. It was gentle, so agonisingly gentle. It wasn’t enough,

“Please Sir, please…” she pled. Her wrists pulled pointlessly on her thighs as she tried to reach for him. She dug her heel against his side, it was a reflex really, but honestly, he was torturing her.

She could feel how flushed she was, perspiration beading in her hairline from the shear effort to not kick and scream at him in frustration. Jon chuckled into her, enjoying her torment.

“It will be so much better this way,” he spoke into her centre, “look at me Sansa,” he commanded her. She raised her head as much as she could, it was impossible to lean back on her elbows with her wrists restrained. His eyes were blazing as they locked with hers, “Gods your wonderful,” he moaned into her skin, “I’ve missed your pretty cunt so much.”

Sansa continued to beg incoherently, and he finally, _finally thank the gods_, increased the pressure of his tongue against her. she arched her back almost painfully as she tried to roll her hips against him. She felt so sensitive, she had never felt such intensity and she tried to stifle her scream though closed lips and teeth.

“No, Sansa, I want to hear you,” he commanded, and she cried out, falling apart before him as he closed his mouth around her nub, sucking hard. She sunk back into the bed, sobbing from the overwhelming feeling of release.

She opened her eyes to find Jon pushing his jeans and boxers around his hips, he took himself in hand and pushed into her, seating himself in one movement as they aftershocks of her orgasm continued to course through her and he collapsed over her,

“Fuck Sansa,” he groaned into her shoulder. She lay there, completely helpless and pinned underneath him, hands still clasped to her legs.

He began to move in and out of her in long, deep actions, “Mine. Your – beautiful – cunt – is – mine,” he growled into her neck, each word punctuated with a hard thrust. He looked utterly wild, with one hand pulling at her braid and the other splayed against the small of her back underneath her. She was sure she did not look much better, her underwear torn and hanging on her in parts, gasping and whimpering for further release.

He was so close, his weight on top of her, she felt completely surrounded by him. With every thrust he brushed against her nub and she thought that this may finally be the thing that kills her. He had ruined her completely.

“Come with me sweet girl,” Jon begged, “my perfect, good girl,” he shouted as he pulled back and cupped her cheek with one hand, starring at her with wild eyes.

She shattered then, unable to disobey him in even this, starring into his eyes. She shook violently, unsure if she had even made a sound in the intensity of her release. Jon came inside her, falling onto her and groaning into her neck.

They laid there in silence, save for the sounds of their breathing mingled together. He began kissing her neck and jaw. He leant up his hand still on her cheek and kissed her deeply, softly. It was such a beautiful kiss, Jon poured himself into that kiss. She found her hands straining to try and reach for him, to have contact with him in any way, so she could show her affection in turn. She whined quietly in frustration.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” his asked, eyes wide with concern.

“I need to touch you, please,” he begged him.

He reared back immediately, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, which he had not even removed in his haste to have her. He worked methodically, unclasping one leg and wrist before moving to the other side.

Sansa wrapped her arms and legs around him as soon as she was free, pulling him against her, clutching at any part of him she could reach. Jon went willingly, rolling so that she was on top of him, running his hands up her legs and back.

“Are you ok?” he asked softly. She hummed in response,

“That was utterly insane,” she was laughing, “you are killing me, I am sure of it,” she whispered into his chest.

“That’s funny sweet girl, because I am absolutely certain you have brought me back to life.”

It was one of the sweetest things he had said to her in the time they had known one another. He had once said everything about them was intense, he was right of course. Maybe he was just as frightened as she was about that.

She swallowed deeply, finding her courage and pulled up to look at him, “It scared me, how much I missed you, how much I wanted you the last few days,” she said honestly.

“I know, me too,” he said simply.

The fact of their situation lay ugly and open between then. Three days had been difficult, near impossible for the both of them to be apart. She had barely coped. How could either of them manage when she finally left, when her summer in Dorne ended and she returned North. How would things be left between them? It seemed so final to her somehow.

“Not now,” he said, as if he could read her thoughts and hear the conflict going on in her mind, “We’ll talk about it soon, I promise, but not now,” he said solemnly.

She nodded into his chest. They were avoiding it she knew, as people often did with difficult things. Just as Sansa was avoiding her feelings, she had known it since the moment she felt every bit of care and softness into his kiss earlier. This was no longer infatuation and desire for her, it was something much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I solemnly swear there will be some actual plot development in the next chapter, I think...
> 
> Just like winter, big brother Robb is coming...


	8. I don't want to keep secrets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa & Jon have a disagreement.   
Robb comes to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a struggle, one should obviously try planning an actual plot from the beginning and not just indulge in smut. 
> 
> This chapter has a small semblance of plot - I apologise   
This chapter has a lot of dialogue - I apologise   
This chapter has no smut - I apologise
> 
> Other than that, enjoy!

**Robb: Flight lands at 4. Should be in the city by 6-ish. You better be taking me somewhere nice for dinner. **

**Sansa: Moi?**

**Robb: Yes you, I’m the tourist! **

**Sansa: Ok big brother, I know this great place that exclusively serves salads. **

**Robb: I hate you. **

Sansa laughed at her phone. Her brother and best friend would be arriving in Dorne tomorrow. They would be spending two days together before he flew back home. It was the longest she had not seen him, they had both even gone to Universities in the North to stay close to their family, but the last six weeks had been their longest separation since she had been born.

Sansa would be following him back North in two week’s time.

“What are you giggling at?” Jon appeared in the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist, his hair dripping, still wet from the shower.

“Just Robb, you look unfairly good Jon Snow,” she quipped from her bed, wrapped in her sheet.

“So do you, you could at least try putting some clothes on,” he sighed.

She feigned innocence, smiling coquettishly, “you will take them off me no sooner than I put them on Jon.”

He hummed in agreement.

“What’s wrong,” he asked, “I can see the cogs whirring.” He had towelled off his hair and was making work of putting his suit on.

She smiled softly at him, he never seemed to miss a thing, “Well,” she exhaled before continuing, “I don’t normally keep things from my family, especially Robb. I haven’t told him anything about… well, you.”

“Likely a sensible decision, he might not be overly thrilled with how thoroughly you have been fucked since you left home,” he grinned wolfishly at her.

“Be serious for two minutes. We spend every second away from work together, and yes, congratulations, you have ‘fucked’ me an impressive amount,” she said sarcastically. “I, well I was wondering…” she trailed off and bit her lip.

“Spit it out Sansa, I have a meeting in 30 minutes,” he said rolling his eyes and sitting on her bed to put on his shoes.

“Fine, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to meet him, for dinner or something?” she huffed a breath in relief, there she had said it.

He continued tying his shoes, he hadn’t looked up at her. The silence stretched between them before he tipped his head back, sighing, “I don’t know Sansa. Wont it be awkward? I essentially pursued you, a young woman in a foreign place and haven’t let you out of bed since. Your brothers bound to have some questions and I’m not really the conventional ‘meet the family’ kind of guy.”

She didn’t really know what to say. In all honesty she was pissed. She was a twenty-year-old woman who did not need anyone’s approval for anything she did. Plus, she had thought he would want to meet Robb, Jon knew how important he was to her. But she simply did not know how to formulate any of that into a response.

“Right,” she said idiotically. _Good one Sans_.

“Besides, I mean it’s not like we’ve labelled this…” he said before she interrupted.

“Excuse me?” She could feel herself getting more upset. She couldn’t understand why he was being so evasive, “no, sure, I mean why would we?” she said dejectedly.

He huffed a breath, clearly exasperated, “I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it, look, can we talk about this later? I’m really late now,” he said glancing at his watch.

“Sure Jon, whatever you want,” he had made his way towards her, but she turned her head and looked pointedly out of the window, clutching the bed sheet closer to her chest. It was childish, but in that moment she didn’t care. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head and left without another word.

\----------

Sansa’s bad mood had lasted most of the day. Her and Jon had not had so much of a disagreement before, so it was new ground for her. By nature, Sansa was the least confrontational person in the world, and she hated being at odds with other people, especially someone she cared about, and make no bones about it, whether she wanted to or not, she cared deeply for Jon Snow.

She had considered calling him, but she knew he had a busy day. Perhaps in hindsight it hadn’t been the right time to have that discussion, ‘do you want to meet my brother’ had quickly turned into the ‘what are we?’ conversation. Maybe neither of them were ready to deal with that.

It didn’t escape her that they could talk about anything related to sex, she trusted him entirely with that. Perhaps she needed to trust him with her feelings too.

She had decided that as soon as she returned to her flat, she would call him, so she could break the ice. However, in true Jon style he had taken control of the situation. When she arrived at her door she found a beautiful bouquet on her welcome mat; winter roses, mixed with white peonies and gypsophelia. It was beautiful, cold looking like the snowy landscapes of her homeland. She grinned at herself and brought them inside. They were tied with grey ribbon, Stark grey, just like his eyes with a small note attached. She plucked it from the tie, turning it over;

_Your happiness is my everything. I would do anything to see you so._

_Yours always_

_JS_

Her heart swelled as she ran her eyes over his words. It reminded her of the note he had sent her when he had filled her flat with winter roses. She picked up her phone and dialled his number. He picked up immediately;

“Sansa,” he breathed on the other line.

“I’m sorry,” she practically shouted down the phone.

He laughed, his deep timber making a smile stretch across her face, “No I am. You caught me off guard. I should’ve expected it. Of course I will meet your brother.”

“Only if you are sure. I shouldn’t have pressured you,” she said gently.

“No, that’s exactly what you should have done. I just… well I’ve never been with someone who I’ve… like… enough to meet their family,” he stuttered awkwardly.

She Smiled against her phone, “well there’s a first time for everything. Thank you for my flowers,” she whispered, “they are beautiful.”

“As are you. Look, I really am sorry, I don’t want things to be like that with us. Come over tonight, I’ll make it up to you, beside I doubt I will get much alone time with you over the next few days,” he finished.

“No, highly unwise to keep me tied to my bed all night with Robb in the next room,” she said sarcastically.

“All night?” He breathed.

“A girl can dream. See you tonight, Sir.”

\----------

Sansa squealed as she ran to her front door. He had used their secret knock from when they were children, giving him away immediately.

“Robb!” she omitted a sound which was half sob, half scream as he jumped into his arms after wrenching the door open.

“Hello little sister,” he laughed, holding onto her for dear life, “you’ve gotten heavier,” he muttered as he put her down, running a hand through his riot of auburn curls.

“No, I haven’t,” she replied haughtily, “you’re just an old man,” their light-hearted teasing was instant and comfortable, she felt like she finally had a piece of home with her.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, hauling his arm over her shoulder as she walked them through to the kitchen.

“I know, it’s crazy how much I miss you all. Would you like some tea?” she asked.

“Is tea the Dornish way of saying ‘beer’ Princess?” he said grinning smugly in response.

“I’m surprised you’re sober actually,” she said, her every word thick with sarcasm, pulling as bottle of beer from the fridge which she had brought especially for him.

He took it absentmindedly, staring across the counter at the flowers Jon had sent her the previous day.

“Nice flowers, usual to see winter roses this far south,” he said it as if he didn’t think the flowers were actually nice at all, like they had personally offended him.

“Thanks,” she muttered, she knew she was likely blushing. Robb had always had a radar for sniffing out information from her. She turned away from him, pretending to fold a tea towel so he could not see her face.

“Care to share Sans?” he said smugly.

“Hmm?” she turned back to him and innocently as she could only to stop when she saw he had moved over to the vase, _stealthy git_, and had picked up the accompanying card, holding it in front of him and raising his eyebrows over the top of it.

“Who’s JS?”

Sansa had planned to at least have a cup of tea before telling Robb about Jon, of course, as she had done throughout her formative years, underestimated her older brother’s over-protective streak, which was in equal parts endearing as it was irritating.

“Fine, but honestly, breathe Robb, you’ll give yourself an aneurism, “ he scoffed at her in turn before she continued, “I met someone,” she said simply, “he’s, well he’s nice to me, he treats me well,” _he fucks me well also,_ she thought to herself before deciding to omit that snippet of information.

“Anyway, I want you to meet him, and he wants to meet you. And before you ask, he is not a sociopath, he doesn’t sleep around and he doesn’t make me cry so he is pretty much better than anyone else I’ve been interested in before,” she said, aiming for her most measured and sure voice.

“Well Sans, considering your past luck with men, the bar really isn’t that high,” he huffed as she flicked him with the tea towel, “how did you meet him?”

And so, the inquisition starts…

“At a museum. Let me save us some time Robb… he works in technology, he has a good job, he holds doors open for me, he always makes sure I get home safely, he’s twenty-seven…”

“TWENTY-SEVEN!” he interrupted, shouting at her.

“You’re twenty-seven,” she said rolling her eyes, “and your last girlfriend was my age, so you really haven’t got a leg to stand on Robbert,” she scolded him.

Robb had the grace to at least look fairly reprimanded, “What’s his name?”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, she really was long suffering, “Jon Snow.”

“JON SNOW!” He yelled.

“Stop bloody shouting, yes Jon Snow,” she threw her hands in the air, laughing at his own ridiculousness.

“You said he worked in technology, not that he WAS technology,” he was looking at her like she was utterly insane.

“I think you’ve finally lost it brother,” she put her hand on his shoulder dramatically.

“Jon Snow as in Targaryen Tech? Sans, father likely knows half the executive board. They are huge,” he smiled at her softly, “you honestly couldn’t care less about that though, could you? You are too nice for your own good.” He sighed softly.

Sansa smiled back at him in response, Robb smiled back before glancing down at the card Jon had written to her, “Your happiness is my everything,” he quoted, “Sans, that’s pretty heavy, you’ve only been here six weeks.”

“I am well aware of that fact. He treats me really well Robb, would you not just meet him before planning his downfall?” she looked up at him as doe eyed and innocently as she can, using her ‘Princess Sansa’ face which had won her so many battles in the past.

“Fine,” he scowled in response, pulling at his tie in frustration.

“Thank you,” she beamed, kissing him quickly on the cheek, “and brother, stop being so dramatic, you’re positively Shakespearean at times,” she laughed before running away from him.

\----------

“Stop fidgeting,” Robb laughed at her as they walked into the restaurant.

“Yes, thank you Catelyn Stark, for that lesson in composure,” she drawled, smoothing the skirt of her dress. It was a duck egg blue, fitted at the waist and feel to her knee. The top was Bardot style, leaving her collarbone and shoulders exposed. It was appropriate enough for the company and the restaurant, but she knew Jon would love it.

Robb wore his trademark ‘Stark Grey’ suite, hair carelessly tousled.

“Don’t be nervous, I promise I will behave,” he said, although judging by the smirk he wore she highly doubted that.

“Well you hardly have the best track record when it comes to meeting the men in my life. Joffrey…”

“Was a twat,” he interrupted.

“And what about when you met Harry…”

“Another twat,” he sighed before giving their name to the hostess.

“Ok fine, they were rather twat-ish I will warrant you that. Jon isn’t though, so please, I beg of you, behave,” she implored him as he linked his arm with hers and followed the hostess to their table.

The restaurant was pretty. Jon had chosen it, he had insisted. It was in an older building, a beautifully renovated orange stone church. Jon was already there, seated at their table, of course he was, he had never been late for anything in his life. He looked gorgeous, as he always did, his suit was a dark charcoal and his hair was tied back at the nape of his neck.

He smiled softly as he noticed them approaching, rising to his feet as they neared.

“Sansa,” he said tenderly, he held his hand out as she came next to him and she placed her hand in his. “You’re beautiful.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, as he always did. She was surprised he did it now, in front of Robb and the gesture made her chest swell with fondness.

She felt her cheeks blush as she turned to Robb who was appraising her with a glint of amusement in his Tully blue eyes.

“Jon, this is my brother, Robb Stark, Robb, this is Jon Snow,” remembering her courtesies, as she always did.

“It’s good to meet you Robb,” Jon said offering him his hand.

“Likewise,” Robb said, she rolled her eyes as she watched them both grip one another’s hands tightly, “Sansa has told me a lot about you,” he added as they took their seats.

“I could say the same,” Jon nodded in reply, “although I have been a follower of your work before I met Sansa, the paper you published on the merits of Northerners focusing on their own agricultural production against importation was very insightful.”

Sansa and Robb stared at him, blinking blindly, “thank you Jon,” Robb managed.

“And here I was believing you just thought us Starks were pretty dresses and tree worshippers,” she commented dryly.

“Shh Sans, he was complimenting me, lets go back to more of that,” he quipped before they all broke into easy laughter.

_May the gods bless you Robb Stark. _

\----------

Robb had excused himself apologetically to take a call.

It was going well, almost too well. Sansa had forgotten her nerves as Robb and Jon had fell into easy conversation, even banter at times. Robb’s natural charisma and outgoing nature seemed to compliment Jon’s calmness and steady demeanour.

As soon as Robb was out of sight Jon ran his hand up her thigh, causing her to jump.

“Well, I’m still alive,” he said dryly, “although it appears you have little concern for my wellbeing wearing a dress like that sweetheart,” he said quietly, as his hand ghosted further up her leg.

“Jon,” she warned.

He chucked and fixed her with a piercing stare, “I should’ve sucked harder on your neck last night, then you wouldn’t be able to tease me so if you were covered in my bruises. It’s no matter, the night is still young,” his hand teased the apex of her thighs over the fabric of her dress and she pressed her legs together tightly.

“I bet you’re soaking aren’t you Sansa? You’re such a good girl for me, sitting so sweetly in front of your brother whilst so wet, all for me,” he muttered as he tried to pry his hand between her legs.

She whimpered once before smacking his hand away.

“Sorry about that,” Robb said as he lowered himself back into his seat.

“Don’t worry,” Jon smiled at him, as if he hadn’t just had his hand between her legs, before turning towards her, “are you alright sweetheart, you look a tad flushed?”

_Bastard. _

\----------

Jon had insisted his car take them home. When they arrived at her flat, he walked with them to the door, shook Robb’s hand after exchanging numbers and a promise of catching up for a beer next time Jon was in the North for business, and a kiss placed on her hand before departing. She had implored him to join them for a night cap but he insisted she spend time with Robb before he left.

Robb had busied himself making them a drink, he had been quiet, not saying a word since their return. He set down their gin and tonics and turned to her, opening his mouth to speak several times before stopping, with a look of confusion on his face.

“Robb, whatever it is you want to say, just get on with it please,” she said sternly.

“It’s odd. I am… confused,” he muttered.

“Well that is obvious brother,” she barked a laugh at him.

“I’ve never felt like this before and I’m just trying to process it…”

“And…” she pressed.

“Well, I like him. Really like him. This is not a feeling I have associated with a man and you before,” his perplexed look still fixed on his lovely face.

“That’s a good thing, surely?” she asked.

“Yes, but Sans, the man looks at you like you are the Maiden. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at a woman the way he looks at you,” he was looking at her like one would look at a wounded animal.

“And that’s a problem because….” She pressed him further.

He huffed and sat down next to her, putting an arm over her shoulder, “Sans, you are going home next week, this is going to end, and you know it, I don’t want you to get hurt. I bet you haven’t even properly discussed it have you? You can’t hide from it sister. The man is in love with you.”

“He isn’t in love with me Robb,” she muttered defensively, although she could hear the tremor in her own voice.

“He is Sans, he really is. I’m sorry. But I don’t think this is going to be easy,” he implored softly.

“The best things never are Robb.”


	9. Summer's a knife.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon prepare to have their last night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our penultimate chapter...  
We often do not realise we have a good thing until it's gone.

Sansa’s last week in Dorne had been wonderful. She had finished up her internship, with a glowing recommendation and promises to stay in touch with her new friends. Jon and Sansa had continued to spend every evening with one another, it had been heavenly, wrapped in their bubble, far removed from reality.

Each evening Jon had asked her how she felt about leaving, usually when they were laying together, well into the night. Each time she would reply with practiced words about how much she had loved it here, how she would never forget meeting him and that she hoped they could stay in touch, but he was under no obligation and that trying to remain friends at such a distance would be the best they could hope for. The first time she had given this speech had been difficult, each night thereafter somewhat less so, yet each time he responded in the same way,

“If that’s what you want Sansa” He would say softly, forever unable to deny her a thing.

She knew it was cowardly, to lie so brazenly to his face. Of course, it was not what she wanted. If she could pick up Dorne and Jon Snow and deposit them safely next to Winterfell she would. But she knew it couldn’t be. His life, his company, everything he had worked so hard for was in the South. How could she ask him to change all of that, and just for her? What was she, a naive twenty-year-old girl, still at University and living under her fathers’ roof? No, she was worth a summer romance, but no more, certainly she did not feel worthy of Jon Snow forever. He would move on and continue with his life here, whilst she worked out how to live hers, she could believe that, if she really wanted to.

Sansa had tried not to over analyse her feelings too deeply, not this close to her departure. Initially she had been dizzy with curiosity and lust for Jon, when they had first met in the museum those weeks ago. Then she had wanted him, in every way. But now, no… she couldn’t be honest enough with herself to admit how she truly felt about him. It was pointless, she was in a big enough mess as it was.

It was exceedingly difficult to compartmentalise these feelings during their last evening together. He had, in true Jon Snow style, surprised all her expectations. He had said he would take her for dinner. She had worn a daringly short black dress, one final tease for him. Dinner had turned out to be him having the museum where they met opened for them for the evening. They shared an intimate meal in the hall where they had first spoke, surrounded by the water colour paintings she had loved so much. She had nearly burst into tears there and then, but she wore her mask like armour.

Jon was far less controlled. He clutched her hand all evening, almost as if he were afraid she would bolt from him. He had kept his arm wrapped around her the entire car journey home, tracing reassuring circles on her bare arm the whole time, although whether they were to reassure her or him remained to be seen. He was solemn, brooding, much like the confusing man she first encountered.

Jon hadn’t spoken a word to her during the ride back to his apartment, nor as they excited the car and took the elevator to his floor. He turned to her as he opened the door and he stared at her intently, almost as if he was willing her to say something, anything but she didn’t, she couldn’t. He nodded his head once before dragging her into his arms, picking her up with ease and carrying her over the threshold. He kicked the door close behind him and deposited her back down, she stumbled at the suddenness of his actions, gasping as he pushed her back against the door forcefully and crashed his mouth into hers.

It was a heady kind of kiss, with tongue and nipping teeth. She let him lead, he needed this and she knew it, she would let him take, and take, and take tonight, for it would be their last. His hands were in her hair, on her neck, her shoulders, everywhere, all at once as he tried to drag her closer still. She consented, arching her back into him as he pinned her with his body to the door, she whimpered in response.

“Good girl,” he mouthed reverently into her neck, she threw her head back, letting it rest against the door. They had not even made it three feet into his apartment. Her dress, which was far tighter, and far shorter than anything she had ever worn at home, was riding up her legs as she rolled her hips into him.

“My perfect, beautiful, good girl,” Jon cooed as his hands continued to their path from her shoulders down her body. His left hand teased her breast over the fabric as he kissed and licked his way across her collarbone. She sighed softly as he pinched her nipple through her dress. Her skin burned despite them both being fully clothed. Sansa dragged her foot up his leg, hooking it around him and digging her high heels into him, he groaned in reply and bit down hard on her neck.

“What do you want Sansa?” he asked her, bringing his head up to lean his forehead against hers. She licked her lips as she looked him in the eyes, grey on blue.

“Touch me, Sir,” she whispered, and she bucked into him, making her meaning quite clear. He hummed, grinning at her in a flash of teeth before pulling her in to kiss her again. She tangled her hands into his hair to keep his mouth against hers as his hands ghosted downwards, one bunching her dress around her hips and the other trailing down to cup the front of her.

“Fuck,” he tore his lips away from hers, pulling back slightly to look downwards, finding her bare before him. She had planned this of course, sitting demurely at dinner whilst she knew she had nothing on under her dress. Sansa knew it would drive him insane as soon as he found her like this, exposed and wet before him.

“They are under your pillow,” she smirked, “my underwear, I left them there earlier,” Sansa finished triumphantly.

He pressed him hand harder against her mound, causing her to bite her lip and whimper, their breath mingling as he drew back closer to her.

“Is that right, Sansa?” he asked, “You’ve walked around like this all night, when you know your cunt belongs to me…”

She nodded and moaned, rolling her hips to seek more friction as he kept his hand frustratingly still.

“I thought you had been so good for me tonight,” he tutted, “you enjoy this, making me crazy on our last night together,” he removed his hand from her and she whined at the loss, he brought it hands to his tie at his neck and began pulling it aggressively to untie it.

“Turn around,” he barked at her. She complied immediately, grinning in her victory. She loved that she still had the power to rile him up like this, to make him want her so badly.

“Hands,” Jon growled at her. His usual calm demeanour gone, replaced with this animalistic version of himself. She moved her hands behind her back, and Jon pulled at them harshly as he pinned her front against the wall. She could feel him binding her wrists with his tie. It was tight and uncomfortable, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as he spun her back around desperately and slammed her back into the door.

“Much better,” he chuckled darkly. It ached, having her hands tied behind her and being pressed against the door, but she dragged him closer still by hooking her leg back around him.

Jon buried a hand in her hair as he kissed her in a punishing pace, she was sure her lips would bruise before the night was over. He trailed his hand back down her front, tracing her slit softly, she bucked into him, “please sir,” she begged.

He plunged a finger into her quickly, and she moaned loudly as he traced her nub with his thumb. He groaned in reply, knowing she was obscenely wet for him. He moved his fingers at a harsh pace as she canted her hips along with each movement.

“Gods your cunt is so perfect,” he growled. They needed this, both of them. She knew he would want to consume her completely and she ached for his roughness and this darker side of him.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he snapped at her between kisses, seemingly fearful to remove his mouth from hers for too long.

She tore her mouth from his, desperate for breath as she felt herself rising closer to climax, “I’m yours… sir, only yours.”

“No,” his eyes chased hers wildly, “say my name tonight, please,” he sounded as pained as he looked.

“Jon,” she whimpered, and his head sunk against her shoulder in response. His fingers slowed as he traced gentle patterns on her nub.

No. something had changed. This was different.

“Jon please,” she implored him, trying to ride his fingers faster, as she had been mere moments ago.

“No,” he repeated. He rested his forehead back against hers. She could not escape his piercing gaze. His eyes were so dark but earnest, he looked at her like she was the world, like how she had seen her father look at her mother every day of her life.

“Please,” Jon begged her now, his hands achingly slow and gently, this wasn’t fucking anymore, this was something else.

“Please Sansa, tell me you don’t feel this. Tell me you can leave and act like we never met, like we never had this, I can’t lie, I can’t pretend for you anymore” he whispered, eyes locked against hers.

“Jon, don’t, not now” she sobbed.

“Sansa, please…” he paused, swallowing deeply, “…I’m in love you.”

_He loves me. _

No.

“Wolf,” she cried out, “wolf, wolf, wolf.”

She had finally said it, Jon had finally caused her to use her safe word. He had not had to hurt her physically to do it. She was not strong enough to hear such a declaration when she had to leave him. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t what they had signed up for.

The truth of the matter was that Jon Snow was far braver than she would ever be.

Jon stepped back from her immediately. She had closed her eyes but not before missing the look of agony on his face. He spun her around and pulled quickly at the ties around her wrists. Sansa pushed her dress back down as soon as she could move her hands and wrapped her arms around herself defensively.

“Sansa, I’m sorry…” he reached towards her.

“Don’t,” she shouted back at him, “please Jon, don’t touch me,” as tears began to track gently down her face, she reached for the door and wrenched it open, “just let me go.”

She heard his sob before she even reached the elevator, but she didn’t look back, she knew it would kill her if she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of us are perfect, even Jonsa...


	10. It's a cruel summer, with you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa deals with the repercussions of her decision to leave Jon in Dorne.

Sansa’s one residing thought on her return to Winterfell was that she had made an utter mess of things. She prized herself in being steadfast, demure and calm, but she had not acted so in her last moments with Jon. She had not afforded him the same treatment he had offered her.

After all, Jon had been brave enough to bare his soul to her. _He loved her_. He had told her so, but he needn’t have bothered, she knew, as soon as she had seen how his eyes bore into hers, and felt how he had touched her so softly, so sweetly. She had known it before the words had left his mouth. No man could look upon someone as he did with her and not love them. 

Instead of having the courage to do the same, to tell him how she felt, how he made her feel, Sansa ran, flushed and eyes pooling with tears, all the way back to the North. It’s easy to run, safe in the walls of her childhood home. She would be returning to her cozy dormitory at University in two weeks. Safe, safe, safe.

But feeling safe right now did not make her happy. She was miserable. Her mother was being painfully overbearing in her worry. Her father had calmly threatened bloody murder to the man who had made her cry herself to sleep each night until Robb told them the truth, she had simply had a summer romance that was now over. The end. Time to move on, but how could she?

Robb knew better of course. He came home each night to their family halls, instead of staying at his own apartment in Wintertown, closer to his offices. Each night he returned to hold her hand and let her cry on his shoulder. Robb knew that Jon Snow had been in love with her long before she had, he thankfully, kept his ‘I told you so’s’ to himself.

Jon for his part, had done as she asked. He had let her go and left her alone. He hadn’t barraged her phone with calls and messages, for that she was thankful. It would be too painful to hear his voice.

It was selfish of her. At least here she had her family, she had Robb, who would be there for her always. Jon did not have the same luxury back in Dorne and she had left him with little explanation. Maybe he would mistake her silence for indifference. For when he had given her his heart she had responded with a safe word and left without any further explanation. She spent the first few days at home fixated on what a child she had been, truly, he didn’t deserve someone so unworthy, she was so unlike him, _Jon Snow_, who was brave, gentle and strong. 

\----------

**Robb: Worlds most wonderful sister, have you called him yet? **

**Sansa: No Robb. Leave me alone. **

**Robb: Never. Self-pity is not a good look on you. Just call him. **

**Sansa: What good can it do? **

**Robb: I’m calling you… **

Her phone rang in quick concession, she hit ‘answer’ with a groan as she plopped herself, rather ungraciously back on her bed.

“Robby,” she sighed in greeting.

“Well don’t you sound joyous, little sister,” Robb chuckled down the line.

“Very funny Robb, do you have anything of use to say, I’m very busy…” she drawled.

“You’re laying on your bed in yoga gear aren’t you?” _Gods he was frustrating_, “I’ve seen you heartbroken before Sans.”

“Please don’t pit Jon with any of those other idiots,” she whispered.

“I didn’t mean it San,” he deflected, his voice sincere, “just call him, it might make you feel better just to talk to him, to explain.”

“What is there to explain? He is there and I am here,” she tried to say finally, to put an end to his odious attempts to ‘jolly her up’.

“…and you love him,” he said gently.

“Robb,” she cautioned.

“Sansa, you love him. It’s ok. Look, I can assure you that it is not on the top of my ‘to do list’ to mend your broken heart and throw you into the arms of any man, but it’s just semantics really, he loves you, and you love him. The sooner you admit that the sooner you can decide if you can find a way to make this work, or accept your personal tragedy once and for all,” he quipped, she could sense his trade mark grin through the phone, “either way, him being in Dorne and you being here is just geography. Jon’s a big boy, I’m sure he can make it work.”

Sansa rolled onto her front, desperate to scream into a pillow, but even she couldn’t be that dramatic, “It cannot be that simple Robb.”

“Maybe it is sister. Anyway, look, Mum said you haven’t left the house in days. Come over tonight, I’ll get some of that nice wine you like, and you can cook for me, I haven’t eaten anything home made in days…” he lamented.

“…and this is meant to cheer me up?” she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Yes, nothing makes Sansa Stark feel better more than taking care of someone. Be here by 8pm sweet sister,” and with that the insufferable fool hung up on her.

\----------

Sansa had at least showered and put on some actual clothes. She felt at home in her forest green dress, which fell to her mid-thigh, black tights and heeled ankle boots. She was back in her winter armour. She pulled her coat around her tighter as she knocked on Robb’s door, at 7.55pm precisely. Robb opened the door with a grin,

“You look nice sister,” he said in way of a greeting as he ushered her inside, “you look almost human again.”

“Thank you for that fine compliment, it honestly shocks me that you are single,” she mocked him sarcastically. She shrugged out of her mac and handed it to him.

Robb put his arm around her shoulder and began leading her up the hall, towards the living area.

“So… erm… Look Sans, I need you to remember that I am your favourite person in the whole world, and that you love me, more than life itself…” he continued, rubbing his free hand up the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Robb… what are you doing?” she eyed his suspiciously as they rounded the corner into the heart of his apartment.

“…Sansa.”

_Gods save her. _

She would know his voice anywhere, the gentle way his whispered her name, but that didn’t stop her head from whipping from Robb to him, to Jon Snow. He stood motionless in Robb’s sitting room, his hands deep in the pockets of his suit jacket. His eyes looked just as drawn and pained as they had the last time she had seen him. Sansa couldn’t bring herself to speak, she looked at him as he looked at her, in silence, with just the sound of their breathing filling the room.

“… Ok,” Robb interrupted their trance, she blinked and stared up at her brother as he kissed the top of her head, “Don’t hate me forever. I’ve got date, so don’t wait up,” he walked over to Jon and clapped him on the shoulder, “it’s on you now mate,” he muttered before walking out without meeting Sansa’s gaze. _Coward. _

\----------

He looked so bloody gorgeous. It was wholly unjust, how good, and warm and just like Jon he looked. _Her Jon,_ but he wasn’t anymore, was he?

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered softly, as he always did, with an entire room still separating them.

She swallowed deeply, glancing at the floor, “You always say that,” she replied, not meeting his eye, “what are you doing here Jon?”

“Robb called me… well, I’ve been calling him, repeatedly actually,” he paused, “Sansa look at me please,” he said desperately.

She dragged her eyes reluctantly to meet his, his beautiful grey eyes, so full of sorrow and affection at the same time.

“… I had to know you were ok,” he continued, “I need you to know that I’m sorry…”

“Please don’t be sorry,” she interrupted, “you have nothing to be sorry for, please, I can’t bare it,”

He tipped his head back and sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling, hands burrowing deeper into his pocket, he almost appeared to be smiling softly to himself.

“I’m not sorry for what I said that night Sansa, my sweet girl, I’ll never be sorry for that. I’ll never be sorry for our time together, for every night we spent together, in my bed, with you in my arms. How could I ever be sorry for that…” he sighed. She could already feel her eyes filling with tears, her traitorous emotions giving her away. She thanked the gods he wasn’t looking at her, she knew how much he hated to see her cry.

“How could I ever be sorry for any of those things, things that made me so happy. Because I do love you sweetheart, I do,” he continued, his voice so low and broken, “But I’m sorry for how I told you. I should’ve told you sooner, I should’ve told you everything would be ok, that we could make it work, we could do whatever you wanted…”

“Oh Jon.”

She let out a broken sob and he crossed the room to her in mere moments, gathering her up in his arms and crushing her to him. They clung to one another, and she borrowed into his chest, staining his shirt with her tears as she melted into his warmth. He ran his hands up and down her arms, across her back and into her hair, murmuring reassurances into her temple.

“Shhh, sweetheart, it’s ok, everything’s going to be ok,” he vowed to her.

He cupped her cheeks and pushed her back gently so he could look at her, his thumbs wiping at her tears, “how could I not fall in love with you?” He said so quietly she could barely hear him, “look at you, you’re everything. From the moment I met you, I knew there would never be anyone else for me.” He kissed her forehead gently, “and we will do whatever needs to be done, I have offices here, you know that, I can work here for a month, then go back to Dorne for a few weeks at a time, we can manage whilst you finish your degree, then we can make a decision, a year will be nothing compared to forever with you, fuck Sansa, I will move here tomorrow if that’s what it takes, do you understand?”

Jon’s eyes bore into hers, as only his could, grey pools, desperate to tell her everything she needed him to know.

“I’m so sorry,” Sansa whimpered, she clutched at his wrists, holding his hands to her cheeks, “I should’ve been brave like you. I should’ve told you exactly how I felt Jon.”

He shook his head, “We’ve both been foolish, it doesn’t matter anymore, all that matters is that your are mine, and I am yours,” he kissed her nose and then rested his forehead against hers, “tell me Sansa, please, you can say it…”

“I love you.”

His eyes crinkled in the corner, in the special way only his could and he smiled down at her, with full teeth, more wolf than she could ever be, and he tilted her head up to his to capture her lips with his. He kissed her so sweetly, she felt lighter than she had in days as his tongue brushed against her lips. She sighed into his mouth as he kissed her deeper. This was home, with him, in his arms. Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging as closely to him as possible. He pulled back just enough to press kisses to her cheeks, her nose, every part of her face he could reach. He chuckled lightly into her skin, “my Sansa,” he signed, “you love me.”

“Well you love me too,” she pouted.

“You bet your pretty little arse I do,” he grinned.

She furrowed her brow, “Jon, I can’t ask you to change your life for me,” she said, although she clutched him closer.

“You are my life,” he said simply, burrowing his face into her neck, “my sweet, perfect girl,” he sighed, “it’s just geography…”

“That’s what Robb said,”

“I know, I owe your bother, big time, anything he wants, it’s his,” he kissed her neck, reaching down to grab her thighs and hoist her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. This was her Jon, who couldn’t bare to not touch some part of her, “but I think he may draw the line at me fucking the life out of you in his house,” he continued as he deposited her on the edge of the table.

“You may be right there my love,” she sighed.

He placed a bruising kiss on her lips, “say that again,” he whispered against her mouth.

“My love, my love, my love,” she said, doing exactly as he asked, as she would always want to. She grabbed at his neck and arched against him as he kissed down her neck slowly.

“We’ll get a hotel, and then I’ll fuck you there. All night if you’ll have me. I want you to tell me you love me as I made you fall apart over and over again, my perfect girl,” he commanded her as she moaned softly in response, whispering his name.

“Plus you have plenty of making up to do for leaving me,” he smirked, mirth in his eyes, “It will be a wonder if you will be able to sit for a week after I’m through with you sweetheart,” she whimpered at his words and clutched him closer with her thighs.

“…And then tomorrow, I want to meet your parents, so I can find out how you became such a damn good girl, and then we’ll make a plan, if I can bare to let you out of my bed long enough to do so…”

“Yes Jon, anything. I’m yours Jon Snow,” she said softly, pulling his face back to hers.

He looked at her like she was his world, and maybe she was, and maybe she was enough for him, just as he was for her, and maybe, just maybe, they would be happy.

“As I am yours, Sansa Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a ride. I hope this wasn't too much of a cope out, but I only endorse happy endings, they are my tipple.  
Thank you for all of your wonderful and insightful comments, I have been blown away by how you have been as invested in this version of Jon and Sansa as I have.   
I would like to consider continuing with some one shots, or additional fics based on this universe. If you have any suggestions or prompts, just let me know. 
> 
> Thanks again :) *slinks off to the gin cabinet*


End file.
